


Forget Me Not (Please)

by wingchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (John), Alternate Universe - High School, Amnesia, Amnesiac Dean, Angst, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2015, Depression, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mild Sexual Content, Underage Drinking, Unrequited Balthazar/Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 02:06:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 55,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5272514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingchester/pseuds/wingchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After spending the longest summer break in the history of summer breaks trying to get over Dean Winchester, Castiel is expecting the worst when he returns to Lawrence High where he first met Dean two years ago. But when he returns that fall, nothing is the same. On top of the heartbreak, Dean seems to have had no problem forgetting all about him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The End, or The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to Kat for being there for me throughout this entire process. Many thanks to Sidney, my awesome beta, for coming in very last minute to help me out with the editing. I would also like to thank my artist Charlie for her lovely interpretations of my fic, and for dealing with my lazy ass at times.  
> Last but not least; to Kat, Sam and Sandra who all helped keeping me motivated and inspired to write this fic. I love you guys! ♥
> 
> [Art masterpost](http://diabolistdean.tumblr.com/post/133955364582/dcbb-2015-art-masterpost-forget-me-not) | [DCBB Community](http://deancasbigbang.livejournal.com/) | Mixtape (coming soon)
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

“I was in an accident once.”

Dean's voice had turned into a near-whisper and he wasn't moving. His eyes seemed to have stuck to the wall in front of him, the cigarette burning closer and closer to his fingers as he blanked out. He was in that zone now, the sensitive zone he so dearly avoided, the zone Castiel made a note to not go near too often.

“What do you mean, _accident?_ ” He wasn't sure how he was going to tackle this subject, but he felt intrigued, and he needed Dean to open up for just once. He had to know something about his past. It wasn't like he was sitting around without a life and personality until Cas showed up in Lawrence. There had to be a before, and Castiel wanted to know.

Dean stirred. First his eyes flitted over the old, ugly sign on the other side of the road and then towards the glowing cigarette in his hands. A frown and a flick of fingers, letting the ash fall to the ground between his legs, and then he finally glanced at Castiel. He kept his eyes on him for a short moment, mouth slightly open as if he had been lost in his own thoughts and wasn't sure of what they were talking about. And then he snapped out of it and furrowed his eyebrows, grimaced and took a drag from the cigarette, huffing out a grunt as he exhaled and squirmed on his spot on the curb.

“What the hell do you think?” He shrugged and shook his head, eyes wandering back to that one spot on the sign again. “An undesirable, unfortunate event that unintentionally resulted in damage and injury.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but smile slightly, a proud feeling setting deep in his chest. He loved it when Dean let his smarts shine through with big words. He only wished he would give in to it more often.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked instead of pushing further on the subject and giving in to the urge of asking when, why and how and everything else that woke up inside of him. He knew his place, and he knew not to push Dean when he needed to take his time and reveal things on his own terms. That was partly why they fit so well together, they knew exactly what buttons to push and not push.

“No.”

Castiel glanced at Dean. He had dropped the cigarette to the ground and was taking it out with the sole of his shoe. If the situation was different, Cas would have leaned in close and kissed his cheek, rubbed a hand over the small of his back and told him that he would be there whenever Dean felt ready to talk. But they were outside his house now, in other words – in public, and Dean was sensitive as it was, so Castiel kept his distance. He knew Dean was thinking about the exact same thing, because he glanced back at Cas, smiling faintly and looking at him in a way that Castiel recognized. A silent “thanks, Cas” could be read in his eyes.

  
  


***

One year and eight months later, Castiel was back at Lawrence High again after the longest summer break in the history of summer breaks. At least it felt like it had gone on forever. Which might have been awesome, if it wasn't for one, tiny little detail. A petty little thing that blew up like universe itself and went supernova on Castiel's life, and turned everything upside down.

He'd spent most of the summer curled up in his bed, locked away in his bedroom, avoiding sunlight and people and everything that once had mattered to him. Because nothing mattered when he didn't have the strength to enjoy it. When the overwhelming pain that surged out from the hole in his chest where his heart once had been, took over and wiped all reasons to care out of his system with it. Nothing mattered anymore, and everywhere he turned and everyone who tried to talk to him only reminded him of the one and only thing he wanted to forget most about.

Dean.

At first, they all tried to cheer him up in their own ways. Anna spent countless hours by his side, sitting silently on the edge of his bed with a hand running up and down his back, quietly comforting him as best as she could. She knew he was hurt, but she didn't want to pull him out of his misery if it wasn't on his terms. One night, she'd said that she wanted him to come down for dinner. _“You don't even have to eat, Cas. Just join us, please...”_ she'd pleaded in a soft whisper against his hair before planting a small kiss there and getting up. She'd then told him that she would let him stay in bed if he wanted to, that she wasn't going to help him more than being there for him – because apparently this was something he needed to work over on his own.

Which sure, he probably could have done if he had tried, but Castiel didn't _want_ to. He didn't want to get over Dean, because it was absolutely ridiculous. They had planned everything, together. This couldn't be the end. It couldn't. It wasn't even funny. It was stupid. And everyone should shut up about it already, because he didn't have a problem, and he wasn't naive or hung-up. This could pass, Dean would come back, he would calm down and change his mind and everything would be back to the way it used to. It always did.

But as the weeks went by, Castiel came to realize that getting over Dean was probably necessary if he ever wanted to have something similar to a life again. Especially since the dreaded start of the new semester was getting closer with each day, and that was something he definitely was _not_ looking forward to if he was still in this same state of mind.

The weeks kept treading on slowly. Evidently, time did not move faster only because Cas moved his miserable self out of his bedroom. The dark gray cloud that hung thickly over his head seemed to follow him around wherever he went. He felt like he was slushing through knee-high snow or trying to run in water. Everything was slower, harder, and the cloud turned his life into slow-motion hell.

What sucked especially with slow-motion hell was how the days got longer, and every part of them as well. Gabriel's horrible b-movies with jokes that he couldn't even roll his eyes at seemed to last an eternity rather than one hour and forty tree minutes. Around dinner he had to endure the tedious process of chewing on the same rubbery, tasteless piece of steak up until it was late enough that he could crawl back into his cave of safeness where he had nested in and made himself comfortable. When he slept, time moved normally. Sort of, anyway.

(And when dreaming, he didn't have to be _there_.)

***

“It's the first bloody day of school, and the weather's already shit. It's like the weather-Gods are deliberately screwing with us!”

Balthazar's voice was always lovely to hear first thing in the morning... Castiel groaned internally and looked up at the sky. He was right, though. Castiel hadn't been out much during the summer, but from what he had heard, it had been one of the hottest and nicest summer's in a couple of years. Which was sort of ironic, considering all the plans he'd had and then not gotten around to doing, since he was hiding away beneath his comforter, feeling sorry for himself.

Summer was officially over. School was back, and it was time to be normal.

Cas didn't know what normal was anymore. Trying to get over Dean, once he had set his mind on doing so, had been a lot easier said than done. As soon as he managed to take one step forward in the right direction, something hit him in the face with reminders and flashbacks and he was thrown back to square one. It was like he was stuck on a dodge ball field as the only player on his side, and everyone on the other was throwing balls of Dean-information or reminders at him and it never stopped.

One thing that did happen though, was that time slowly sped up to its normal pace again when he _tried_.

The last two to three weeks of summer break had actually been bearable. Tough and absolutely exhausting, but manageable. He had showered a lot more frequently than before, not only because he needed to – but because he liked the feeling of the water running over his skin and how he almost felt like a new person when he was done. He sat in the backyard in the sun with Anna's homemade _(“too sweet, damn it, Gabriel”)_ iced tea and a new book that she had bought for him in hope of cheering him up when he was at his saddest. He finished his dinner in time with the rest of the family and didn't feel like he was going to explode when he was done. When he went to bed, he felt almost proud, like he had accomplished something. Finally, he was on the right path, on his way to a simpler life, on his way to getting completely over Dean and being ready to face him in school and move on.

He had cleaned out the hole in his chest and patched it up, sewn it shut and

– closed the pain in.

It still hurt, a lot, and often. But that was okay.

***

School still looked the same, the floor felt exactly like it always had underneath his feet when he stepped inside the building, ending up a few feet behind Balthazar and Anna and the rest of their small gang of friends. There were so many new faces to be spotted in the corridor, or maybe everyone had grown up and he hadn't noticed the last year because he had been busy focusing all his attention on Dean?

Nonetheless, Castiel was a senior now. Only one more year to go, and then he could move away from Kansas. From Dean, and all the haunting reminders that were pulling at the stitches over his chest. It had only been a minute, but Cas could already feel the sweat prickling over the back of his neck as he made his way over to where his locker was. He imagined that everybody was staring at him, judging him and whispering to whoever was standing next to them. Deep down, Castiel knew that no one beside his family knew that he had been suffering from depression that summer. There was no need to feel paranoid and make things up, he was just going to make the whole thing ten times worse if he kept doing that. And, like Anna had told him a bazillion times, “You're human, Cas. It's normal. It happens. Don't be ashamed for _feeling_ things.”

And then the world quaked, and there he was. Appearing from the crowd so suddenly, out of nowhere, like a lightning from a clear blue sky, Dean was walking down the hallway in the opposite direction of Castiel, making his way toward him.

The world was in slow motion again and Castiel felt like he was watching Dean through a pair of binoculars, zoomed in on every little detail about him. The way he held himself as he walked, who he looked at, the way his eyebrows quirked and the backpack slung carelessly over one of his shoulders.

Castiel clenched his jaw and glared at Dean when they crossed paths and walked past each other in the school corridor. Dean must have changed lockers, because his used to be just a few over from where Castiel's was. He could hear the loud tick-tocking noise from the clock on the wall, or maybe that was his heart beating so hard in his chest, having re-appeared together with the sight of Dean, now echoing up and through his ears. Yes, that must be it, because time had completely stopped. It wasn't moving, Castiel couldn't move, everything was frozen in that one too-quiet moment except for Dean who kept walking as if the world hadn't just crashed down around them.

All the energies were drawn to Castiel's center again, and he felt them clash and collide and collapse inside of him, a warning sign of the ultimate explosion being close.

It was the first time he had seen him since summer break, the first time he had seen him since Dean broke up with him. He thought he would get through this, that it would be easy and simple; that he was going to fall back into the same studying routine as before Dean happened and he would float through his last year of high school as if he never even existed. Now, he wasn't so sure anymore.

His heart stung in his chest, beating vigorously, tearing and pulling at the stitches that kept him from falling apart. He couldn't breathe, there wasn't enough oxygen in the school for him and he was going to suffocate at any second if he didn't get the hell out of there soon, like right _now_.

He tried to keep his eyes on the ground as he snapped around and plowed over towards the exit. It was like walking in mud, his legs felt stuck and heavy and he was ready to let it pull him down, pull him under and eat him alive.

***

The first gasp of air had snapped time back like a rubber band and things were moving like they should again. Castiel felt dizzy. He walked out on the quad and over towards a nice spot on the grass near a tree where he stopped and took a couple of deep breaths. He glanced up at the sky, it was so much darker now than before. Thick clouds covering all the tiny little spots in-between that had been blue when he entered the school a little while earlier that day. He could almost feel it in the air, it was going to rain in mere minutes, probably pouring from the looks of it. Castiel breathed so quickly that he was almost hyperventilating, his heart once again pounding hard against his rib cage, he was positive it would explode at any second. Biting hard down on his tongue, he fought against all the emotions that were building up inside of him. He was going to have to change schools or something, surely he couldn't be expected to go through this every day for the rest of the year?!

The air seemed to cling tightly around him, and he wasn't sure if the ground beneath his feet was vibrating, or if he was mistaking it for the tremendous thundering that had already started up in his heart, rattling its way through his body as he desperately tried to calm himself down. Counting backwards with every breath, from ten to one, Cas managed to slow his breathing down and relaxed his fists that had turned white-knuckled by his sides. But something still felt off.

He turned around tentatively, glancing over his shoulder, eyes darting towards the door that he had rushed out of just a minute or two ago. He could have sworn that Dean would have come out after him. He saw him, didn't he? The Dean he knew always... Even if he sometimes was too proud to... He always went after him. Even if they were fighting, he couldn't ignore a possible confrontation. Castiel frowned. The doors didn't open.

Why didn't he come? Castiel kept staring at the doors, eyebrows tightly knit together. He swallowed hard, waiting, expecting. A few more seconds went by, and then he could feel tiny, light raindrops hitting his head and arms, and he was hurrying back inside the building to avoid the oncoming downfall. Thankfully, his locker wasn't anywhere near Dean's anymore. Anna was standing a few feet over from Castiel's and she smiled at him and filled him in on the details from Jo. Dean had apparently switched his to where Jo had hers. Castiel just shrugged. It made sense. The lesser they needed to see each other, the better. He could carefully dodge Dean through his classes at least up until lunch.

Castiel pressed his books to his chest and made his way through the hallways towards his first class of the semester.

Maybe it wasn't going to be much harder than this, anyway?

***

It wasn't until lunch that Castiel realized how much things had changed in the short span of two-or-so months. He met up with Anna and her friend Rachel after his last class, and Balthazar and Inias soon joined them. They all talked about summer break and their different vacations and adventures, but Cas had zoned out as soon as he could. Discussing his heartbreak and heartache and the various degrees of depression that he had gone through over the summer was not really at the top of his to-do list.

Before, he used to spend lunch with Dean and his friends at a table near the big windows. Sometimes Anna sat with them too, catching up with Jo or Pamela. But Cas was almost always focused on only Dean. He didn't care much for high school gossip or dances or football games, and he didn't mind sitting quietly, observing his friends and his boyfriend as they socialized and laughed. But that was in the past, and no longer a part of his reality.

Castiel flopped down at a table at the other end of the cafeteria next to Balthazar, placing the tray of colorless and inedible food down in front of him. He glanced over towards the table nearest to the windows, seeing Dean sitting there with Jo and the others as usual, smiling and poking around in his fries. The sun hit his face in the most astonishing of ways, letting Castiel easily see all the way from the other side of the room that Dean was tanner than before; that he had most likely spent the entire summer outside in the hot sun, having fun. He looked good. At least he seemed to be doing well, and it made Castiel feel a little better. If The Unmentionable (also known as _the break up_ ) had done at least one of them good, then it was worth it. He only wished that he had known Dean wanted out earlier, that way, he would have evaded a lot of unnecessary suffering and heartache.

Anna and Rachel sat down opposite of Castiel with their food a few minutes later. His twin sister and her best friend were chatting loudly between the two of them about one of the guys on the football team or something like that, Castiel didn't pay any more attention than that because all of his focus was entirely back on Dean. Besides, Castiel was opposed to eavesdropping. It was bad manners.

Castiel poked around in his food, every now and then glancing over at Dean. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't pull his eyes away from him completely. It might have looked like he was staring, but he couldn't help it. He missed Dean terribly.

Summer break had truly been awful. All of the things that he and Dean had spent the winter and spring months planning to do, had then fizzled out rather quickly when Dean dumped him that one night, roughly two weeks before they were going on break.

It was like a big, cosmic joke, and Castiel didn't get the funny part.

“Don't look at him, Cas,” Anna mumbled and nudged his leg under the table. “You'll never get over him that way. It's just one more year, and then you can go off to college and start a new life somewhere else.” Anna gave him a small smile, but Castiel could see the worry in her eyes.

Start off somewhere new. He didn't want that. They were supposed to last forever, to do everything together. They had picked out possible schools that both of them could apply to, or looked at other arrangements in case Dean decided that he didn't, in fact, want to continue school just yet. They were going to go on road trips across the country and see all the boring monuments and tourist attractions and drink beer and make out under the stars in Dean's old car and then go for milkshakes in the morning at some ragged, ugly old diner with 50's interior by the side of the road.

This wasn't right.

The world was upside down, Castiel's emotions were inside out and everything felt so horrifically backwards.

Castiel flinched slightly when he felt a hand lightly land on his back. He knew it belonged to Balthazar without having to look. He turned his face down, away from Dean, and stared at his untouched food. Balthazar had been trying to make him forget about Dean and ease the pain in his own way, but nothing seemed to make Castiel give in. He liked Balthazar, a lot, but it was nothing compared to how strong his feelings for Dean had been, and he was not ready to take that step yet.

“Excuse me, I'm not feeling very hungry.” Castiel pushed his tray away and got up from the table. He walked through the cafeteria and ignored the feeling of all his friends' concerned gazes on his back as he headed towards the bathrooms. He needed to breathe again, and there just wasn't enough air in the dining hall.

He barely made it inside the door, eyes dropped on the tile floor while walking towards an empty stall, when he heard the door being pushed open and foot steps approaching. It could be anyone, he thought, but whoever it was sounded like they were in a hurry, and Castiel needed some time alone, if only a couple of minutes. Sighing to himself, Castiel then turned around –

– immediately wishing that he hadn't.

“Hey,” Dean started, taking a few steps closer, too close for Castiel's comfort before he continued speaking.

Castiel couldn't say anything, almost didn't hear the words coming out of Dean's mouth when his heart was beating so loudly, echoing in his ears and through his thoughts. He was not _allowed_ to do this, he couldn't get this close to him and talk as easily as if he was discussing the weather – it _wasn't fair_.

“You look like you probably don't want to talk to me right now, but... Most of what happened the last few– Look, it's all pretty much a big black hole, but if I did something to you, hurt you or offended you in any way, you know I... yeah.” Dean trailed off and Castiel glanced at him quickly, noticing the way Dean's eyes pierced through his skin, maybe looking for words or answers. But Castiel was empty. Hollow.

Just like that, he'd turned around and left the bathroom like a dog with his tail between his legs, too spineless to stand up for himself and what he'd done, as usual.

It wasn't until Castiel heard the clicking noise signaling that the door had closed again after Dean that he realized that he had been holding his breath. Inhaling sharply, he relaxed his fists and turned to lean against the sink, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He didn't understand what Dean was talking about, he was bullshitting for all he knew. Pulling himself together, Castiel disappeared to his next class, spending the last hours of the day completely unfocused and unable to get anything done.

 _What a great start to the new semester_ , he thought as he left the building later that day, grimacing at a text message from Balthazar, asking him if he wanted to see a movie later sometime. Castiel only sighed and shoved the phone back into his pocket. Judging by the way it kept buzzing, Balthazar was enthusiastic and texted him the entire way home, probably about the different films the downtown theater screened the coming weekend. Castiel didn't feel like thinking about it at all, so he continued to ignore it.

For weeks, he had tried to prepare himself mentally and emotionally for going back to school, back to the familiar building and the corridors where he had first met Dean when Cas' family moved there a few years ago. He had been mentally bracing himself of seeing Dean's face again and hearing his voice, but those were all in situations that didn't include himself. He had gotten so used to spending time by Dean's side over the past year, that when they broke up, he didn't know how he would survive school. Now, he was even less certain.

Arriving at his house, Castiel quickly went inside and took the steps two at a time up to his room where he flopped down on his bed, taking fifteen minutes to collect himself from the stressful day before he reached over towards his nightstand and pulled his laptop over. It wasn't like he had anything better to do anyway.

Castiel had never been much for imaginative usernames, or chat rooms in general for that matter. He simply stuck with C.Milton, as it was easy to remember and not very embarrassing if he had to exchange information with someone. Normally, Castiel didn't use his computer for much other than his homework, he never really understood the entertainment in different online communities. To him, it was a lot better and more fun (not to mention relaxing) to spend his free-time with a new book or in front of the television. But today, something felt different, and he opened the chat anyway. A lot of people he knew were online; Rachel, for instance, almost immediately invited him to a personal chat for just the two of them, where they talked about school for a while, and about Balthazar and general teen-things. One of the names in the list of people signed in stood out to him, Impala67, which was Dean's extremely annoying and stupid username. Castiel considered blocking him for a moment, but decided not to. Instead, he put on some music, and tried to get some studying done.

A loud noise cut through the soft music coming through the speakers, a bell-like _ping_ to let him know that someone had sent out a mass-message. Glancing at it quickly told him that it was from Dean, and that was all Castiel needed to know before he closed the window and logged out of the chat room. He didn't care about what the message said, mostly worried that Dean was going to repeat something similar to what had happened earlier in the bathroom, and Castiel felt like he'd had enough of emotional turmoil for one day.

Crawling into bed later that night, Castiel found it hard to fall asleep, with thoughts of Dean's green eyes flooding his mind, making it even less easy to breathe. He pulled the comforter over his head and imagined that everything was as it used to be, imagined he could still smell Dean on his pillow. But it was pointless. Castiel pulled the comforter down and exhaled, a sigh catching in his throat on its way out. Maybe Anna had been right, maybe he should just listen to her advice and try to get over Dean? He felt like he would be stuck in this rut forever unless he actually did something and took a step forward. Perhaps he really did need to move on.

With that thought in mind, Cas finally grabbed his phone. The screen was bright in the darkness of his room and he had to squint his eyes when he read every one of Balthazar's texts and then finally replied, setting a date and a time.

He fell asleep not long after, a bad feeling setting deep in his stomach.

***

Despite his best effort, school did not, in fact, get any better just because Castiel had decided to go on a date with Balthazar. He had thought it would get easier, that he could focus on Balthazar and the rest of their small group of friends, so that all thoughts of Dean would magically fly out the window. Anna had glared at him that morning when he told her. Apparently, going out with Balthazar was not what she had meant when she said that he had to get over Dean. Cas told her to be a little clearer next time.

At lunch, Balthazar sat pressed close with his thigh to him the whole time, and occasionally touched or slapped a hand gently on his back when someone said something particularly funny. It shouldn't have felt different than before he'd agreed to go on a date with him, Balthazar was always like this with everybody, he was a physical kind of guy who liked hugging and touching people affectionately and sometimes even kissed their cheeks. So why did it make Castiel squirm on the inside? Outwards, of course, he kept up his appearance the best he could, laughing when he assumed it was appropriate, smiling as if he was finally doing well. No one seemed to notice, except Anna, who could always tell, she was looking strangely at a spot somewhere to his left. Castiel looked at her for a moment, wondering what was so fascinating, and then he glanced in that direction.

Dean was looking right back at him. Actually, he was more like staring, and when Castiel tilted his head to the side, he wondered if maybe Dean wasn't actually looking at _him_ , but at Balthazar. And less looking and more like glaring daggers at. This was new, but Castiel decided to go with it. He was trying to move on, right? Besides, Dean was the one who had broken up with him. So, turning back and diving into the conversation again, Castiel moved his hand from the table and put it on Balthazar's back, rubbing up and down before finally setting near his waist. This earned him a kick on the leg under the table from Anna, and a slightly shocked but pleased smile from Balthazar. Castiel smiled as well, hoping it had worked and made Dean a little jealous, _that would serve him right_ , he thought. Cas wasn't much for public displays of affection, but he remembered that Dean always wanted to do stuff like kiss in school and be “out there” and official about their relationship. Cas never really liked that, he wanted to keep it intimate and private, moments only for the two of them. But now, after Dean dumped him, he would show him that he could. So, Castiel made everyone at his table shocked, when he made sure he had Dean's attention before moving his hand from Balthazar's waist and up to his neck, pulled him close and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

“I'm really looking forward to our date,” he murmured, kicking himself to pieces on the inside.

Leaning back, the world around him seemed all too quiet – or, at least the part of the cafeteria they were sitting in did. Castiel picked at his food for a few seconds before looking up at his friends, wondering why they had all stopped talking so suddenly.

Okay. Maybe he should have considered the fact that everybody was going to stare at him when he decided to kiss Balthazar, because this was attention he definitely did not want. Castiel hated being in the center of attention, hated it when everyone's eyes was on him, probably judging him and thinking god-knows-what about him.

A light blush crawled up his neck and he stared down at his food.

“Castiel!” Anna hissed at him from across the table, leaning over it as if they had to talk in secret. “What was that? Are you out of your mind? You could get in trouble!”

Rachel was staring dumbstruck at him, and Balthazar was grinning, trying (and failing) to hold back his laughter, Inias looked mortified.

“I... I don't know,” Castiel mumbled, equally shocked as the rest of them, and swallowed thickly. Tentatively, he looked back to where Dean had been sitting, but the chair was empty and he seemed to have left the cafeteria.

Almost instinctively, maybe out of old habit, Castiel stood up suddenly, his back turned to his friends, eyes searching for Dean's familiar figure. He sucked in a breath of air, and held it in his lungs while he skimmed his eyes quickly over the cafeteria and every face, back and head he could see, but Dean was nowhere to be found. Maybe he had gone outside. Castiel swallowed thickly, a pang of guilt settling deep in his stomach.

Anna grabbed a hold of his wrist a moment later. He had been so caught up in his mind that he hadn't even noticed that he'd left the table behind and started hurrying toward the exit. His pulse was throbbing in his neck.

“What was that all about?” Anna asked calmly, her fingers soft and gentle around his wrist, dropping slightly to the palm of his hand. “With Balthazar? Is this about Dean? Because acting out _like that_ when it's clearly hurting you isn't the way to go about it...”

Anna had always been good at seeing right through him, her eyes were just as piercing as his own in that way. And just as always, she was right. He could fake it all he wanted, laugh with his friends and attempt to be flirty with Balthazar, but Anna would always be able to see through his smiles and detect the forced ones from the real.

Shaking his head, Castiel pulled his hand away from his sister's. “He confronted me.”

Saying it out loud was so much worse than he had thought it would be, it was making it real to the person who heard it, no matter how much denial he was in himself. It had been like that at the beginning of summer, all the time he would catch himself forgetting about being broken up with Dean. He could be picking up the phone to text him something silly, and then suddenly remember, or someone would mention _them_ and the world would collapse again.

“Who? Dean?” Anna took a step closer to him until the toes of their shoes were touching. She placed her hands on his upper arms, looking at him with her eyes full of sisterly concern. “What more could that self-entitled douchebag even want from you?”

She didn't really mean that, Castiel knew. Anna had always been fond of Dean, and even despite trying to sound protective, she wasn't very convincing.

“Don't call him that,” Castiel mumbled, looking away and taking a moment to let the words crawl over his tongue and make their way out of his mouth. “He wanted to apologize – not that he actually did – but it was strange, the way he looked at me...”

Anna squeezed his arms then, huffing out a small breath with some strange sort of relief, a smile playing on her lips. “That sounds like him,” she commented when Castiel told her Dean hadn't properly apologized to him. Then her smile grew thin, lips pulled together in a tight line, and her grip on his arms loosened a little. “I saw you were online last night,” she said, her arms lingering near his arms, as if she was ready to grab him again. “Did you read his message?”

Castiel rolled his eyes and grunted. “No.”

“I didn't think so. But Cas, maybe you should. It was kind of... important. I could tell you, but I don't really think it's my place to– and you'll probably hear about it sooner or later anyway–“

“Anna.” Castiel cut her off. All this talk about Dean-this, Dean-that, it was getting on his nerves. Even after their break up, Dean was still controlling his emotions. It wasn't fair. “I don't want anything to do with him anymore. I mean, _I wish_ I could have everything to do with him, but that's not happening. So I'd rather... Just please don't mention him to me again. It's easier that way.”

It was too much. Everything was too much.

Just like the day before, Castiel turned his back to Anna and their friends and rushed out of the cafeteria in hope of clearing his mind and prevent it from clogging up with memories or thoughts of Dean again. If only he could get some fresh air and focus on the weather or upcoming tests and homework like normal students. If only Dean would let him be and forget about him forever.

With his breath caught in his throat, Castiel walked out to the quad outside the cafeteria, turned a corner and was heading towards the gym when he heard a loud voice coming from behind a wall and stopped dead in his tracks.

“Stop following me!” the voice said loudly, angrily.

Castiel looked around himself, but there was no way the source of _that_ voice came from anywhere he could see.

“ _No!_ ” The voice – Dean's – barked at someone seconds later. Castiel pressed his back to the wall and listened intently to the conversation, or argument, going on just a few feet away on the other side of it.

It was difficult to make out the other voice over the loud beating of his heart and the way it seemed to be drumming in his ears, making him dizzy. The other voice was much quieter, and calmer than Dean's. A girl's, Castiel quickly realized.

“Tell me where you're going, then!” The girl's voice demanded. She sounded stern; Castiel pictured her with her arms on her hips, or across her chest, looking like a mother who had just caught her underage son sneaking out.

“I'm just not hungry anymore.”

Dean sounded a lot more calm now, feeling defeated maybe. The quietness that followed seemed to last for minutes and Castiel clenched his jaw hard. He hated it when Dean's voice sounded like that. He could tell that he was lying, making up an excuse that was easy to see through so he would be pitied and left alone. All he wanted was to walk out from behind the wall and hug him, or take his hand and leave school and go somewhere else where they could be alone and not do anything in particular. Just enjoy each others company.

“It has something to do with him, right?”

The blood went cold inside of Castiel's veins. His heart stopped beating for a moment, and _'him'_ echoed in his ears. He could feel sweat begin to pearl at the back of his neck and although he was staring at something in front of him, he couldn't see a thing that was happening. It was almost like he could feel his ears pointing upwards, and he stood up on his toes as if that would help him listen as he waited for the conversation to continue.

Instead, all he heard was,

“Catch– _WATCH OUT!_ ”

Castiel turned around last second, fast enough to see the football come flying to somewhere near him, and a massive guy running backwards after it – coming right towards Castiel.

The guy slammed into his chest, almost making his feet lose their grip of the ground beneath them. Castiel stumbled backwards, shooting his arms out instinctively in case he would fall.

Tiny stones and gravel cut into his palms, his elbows crashed against the hard pavement a split second later. The pain that surged to where he'd landed almost didn't bother Castiel as he was busy looking the other way, hiding his face from Dean and the girl he had been talking to, afraid they would see and recognize him.

The guy that had plunged into him called out a 'sorry' and was gone before Castiel had time to find his breath, and then a hand was on his shoulder.

“Hey are you–“ the all too familiar voice said, and Castiel turned his face to Dean, eyes wide in terror and embarrassment.

Dean stared back at him with a look of confusion on his face.

“ _You._ ”

“Dean– I can explain,” Castiel said, words rushing out of his mouth as he scrubbed the dirt and gravel off his hands, trying to ignore the way Dean's eyes seemed to pierce right through him. This was the least thing he wanted, the least thing _both_ of them wanted. Dean had told him he never wanted to see him again, and after all the pain Castiel had gone through, he'd rather not see Dean up close like this either.

“Were you listening to us?” Dean clenched his jaw, removing his hand from Castiel's shoulder. “You were, weren't you?”

Castiel didn't know what to say to that. It wasn't like he could lie to Dean now, it was too obvious that he had been listening to them and lying about it would probably just make this whole thing worse.

He glanced over to the girl Dean had been talking to who had walked up closer to them and looked at Cas with a sad smile on her face, almost as if she was apologizing for something. He recognized her now. Her name was Robin, she was one of Dean's old friends. Apparently they used to be quite close, but that was back before Castiel had transferred to their school, he'd only heard stories from Dean about her and their friendship. Castiel didn't know her well, he'd only seen her around at school with some of Anna's friends every now and then.

Taking a deep breath, Castiel decided that he would have to tell Dean the truth. He knew anyway, right? And they were already on extremely bad terms with each other, it wasn't like this could make it worse.

“Yes,” Castiel admitted, flitting his eyes from Dean to the ground and then back up again. “I noticed you staring at me in the cafeteria, and then you left and I know it's none of my business anymore but I thought perhaps it was because of me and I'm not sure why but I followed you out here and... I shouldn't have eavesdropped. I'm sorry, Dean.”

The last words left a bitter taste on Castiel's tongue, it made him feel sick to his stomach that he had spent the bigger part of the summer break apologizing to Dean in his mind, in letters and text messages he'd never sent, saying he was sorry over and over again despite not knowing if it was his fault things had ended between them at all.

Dean rolled his eyes with a sigh and started moving to get up.

“Dean, wait. We need to talk.”

Somewhere deep down, Castiel knew he shouldn't talk to him, that it wasn't a good idea. But he also had a feeling that he would regret it if he didn't.

He pushed himself up, brushed off his hands on his jeans and watched as Dean stopped and turned towards him again.

“About what?” Dean asked, sounding annoyed and maybe a little angry. “If you want to yell at me, go ahead, but I probably won't understand anything. From what I've heard, I've been hurting you but I don't exactly know what happened.”

Castiel stared at him in disbelief and confusion.

“What do you mean you don't know?”

Dean started opening his mouth to speak, but paused, his eyebrows knitting together.

“Didn't you read my message?” He sounded uncertain, as if he didn't know how to react.

Castiel noticed the way Dean kept clenching his fist, subconsciously bracing himself for something.

“On the chat? No.”

“And nobody told you?”

“No... told me what? And I'm not going to yell at you, Dean. As far as I remember, that was what _you_ did the last time you properly spoke to me.”

Something shifted in Dean's eyes, his posture becoming more fidgety as if he was contemplating whether or not to dart out of there. He ran a hand over his face, letting out a long sigh.

“Man... I don't know you, okay? I don't know anybody. In fact, I don't know anything that's happened the past two years 'cause a stupid car accident knocked out my memory.”

Castiel couldn't get a word out. What the hell was Dean talking about? Dean had been in an accident? When? He knew from when they were together, that Dean had been in an accident _before_ , but Castiel didn't know much about that because Dean refused to talk about it. It didn't make sense.

He found it hard to even look at Dean now without feeling like his stomach turned upside down, his heart sinking somewhere down to his feet, and his tongue had completely disappeared. He stared at Dean, his eyes big and blue, slightly glassy but he _wasn't_ going to cry. A part of him did want to yell at Dean now, but he couldn't find the strength in him to do so. After all, he wasn't angry with Dean. He was sad, and confused. He still wasn't sure why Dean had broken up with him, he'd spent the entire summer wondering what he had done wrong. From what he knew, they had been nearly perfect together.

“You don't... you don't remember? Why?” Castiel asked carefully, processing this new information that apparently Dean didn't remember anything from the past two years of his life. Including Cas.

“No, I can't remember,” Dean said flatly. “This car accident 'bout two years ago caused an amnesia – I don't know the fancy word for it, but basically the past two years were a completely new life in my brain. And now, when my brain's put itself back together, those new memories vanished. I guess it was some kind of protection.”

Suddenly it was like time had stopped around them.

_Those new memories vanished._

The words echoed in Castiel's mind. Over and over again. He couldn't entirely wrap his mind around what Dean said, and a feeling in his stomach told him that he probably didn't want to find out what it exactly meant.

Castiel blinked a couple of times, realizing that Dean's mouth was still moving. He shook his head a little bit, to rid himself of all the questions that rose up inside of him and continued listening to Dean.

“–I feel bad about what happened, from what I've heard of it anyway, but that wasn't me. Suddenly, I'm two years older, Sammy's got a girlfriend and my entire life is completely fucked up. That person who you think I am, that's another Dean. He won't hurt you that way ever again, because he doesn't exist anymore.” Dean shrugged his shoulders, as if he was talking about the weather, and took a step back. He nodded his head towards a spot somewhere behind Cas and raised his eyebrows at him. “Guess it's time for me to leave, your boyfriend doesn't seem too happy that I'm talking to you.”

“I don't have a–“ Castiel started, trying to interrupt Dean and shot a glance over his shoulder. Balthazar was standing near the corner where Cas had come stumbling out backwards a couple of minutes ago, watching them carefully. “He's not my boyfriend,” Castiel said sharply, loud enough that Balthazar would hear him, and turned his eyes back to Dean.

Taking a breath, he calmed himself down. “That was the accident?” he mumbled quietly. Not even when they were together had Dean told him. He never knew it was a car accident, never knew it had caused him an amnesia. Why had Dean lied about that? They were supposed to tell each other everything.

And then it hit him. That was, supposedly, another Dean. It wasn't _his_ Dean. This guy didn't even know him. He didn't know all they had been through, everything Dean had helped Cas with when he was new at the school and everything Castiel had helped Dean through. It was all _gone_ , just like that, right before his eyes, like it never even happened. The realization was enough to make Castiel dizzy. On top of heartbreak, he was about ready to go into mourning as well. His Dean was gone, he didn't exist, it was like he was dead and Castiel wanted to sink through the ground and disappear too, scream for a whole year because his feelings didn't make sense right now. His insides were being torn up, over something that never even mattered, because it was not real.

With glassy eyes, Castiel took a stumbling step backwards, staring at 'Dean' as if he had just punched the air out of his lungs, and he found it hard to talk again.

“I don't understand,” was all he managed to get out, then took half a step around to rub the heel of his hand to his eyes while Dean was still watching him carefully.

“I'm sorry,” Dean bit out, swallowing hard before grabbing his backpack and wasting no time in getting the hell out of there while Castiel stood paralyzed, watching him leave, probably looking just as sad and pathetic as he felt.

It was the second time in his life that Castiel had heard Dean apologize, and he wished he could take it back.

***

When he got home early after cutting class, Castiel was quiet. He had barely been able to focus on anything for his next class after the confrontation with Dean, mostly fighting the urge to throw up or something, because two years of his life – the most wonderful time he had ever had, was suddenly pointless, worthless, and didn't mean anything. Part of him wanted to go after Dean, to talk to him, or just see his face again, maybe to see if Dean would tell him that it was just a mean joke to make sure Castiel got over him properly, as if the entire summer break without him hadn't been enough. But it _wasn't_ his Dean, it wouldn't mean anything. This Dean didn't know how in love they had been, he didn't know how close they were or what memories they had shared, because it was all gone. Castiel couldn't stand it, he had to go home.

Castiel was never much for talking, except for with Dean, but he was also never this quiet. It was to the point where Anna got worried when she got back home from school.

He was in his room, in bed, crawled down underneath the blankets and face red from his silent sobbing. Cas wasn't sure for how long he had been crying, but it must have been hours.

There was a drop near the edge of his bed when someone sat down on the mattress, a hand stroking over his back. It was Anna. She didn't have to say anything, and Castiel didn't either. He guessed twins knew when the other was feeling down and was in need of comforting, not to mention that it was obvious from the state he was in.

Eventually, Castiel broke the silence. “I miss Dean,” he mumbled into his pillow with a sigh so heavy it made his voice tremble.

“I know you do, honey,” Anna whispered. “I talked with Jo,” she continued. “She told me more about what happened to Dean, about his accident and the amnesia. I'm so sorry, Castiel.”

Castiel started crying again, silent sobs that soaked his pillow and made the sensitive skin beneath his eyes sting again.

The bed moved and croaked a little as Anna bent down towards him and placed a soft kiss to his forehead.

“You should talk to him, perhaps try to trigger his memories back, somehow. When you feel better...”

It sounded like something she had to say, just to bring him hope. Something right out of a movie. Castiel turned his face towards her, and she lay down next to him, his eyes swollen and wet.

“It won't work. He said his old memories replaced those two years.”

Anna smiled, reaching a hand up to cup his sad face. “Cas. The brain is a magnificent thing. There's no windows out of there, only rooms with doors and locks. Memories can't go away completely. They're still in there somewhere, only hidden, locked away. He's still Dean. You just have to try.”

The next day, Castiel didn't go to school. He still felt emotionally traumatized from what had happened with Dean the day before. He wondered if he would ever recover fully. After all, Dean wasn't the only one who had lost two years of his life. At least Dean had the advantage of forgetting all about it. Castiel had to live with it, and it sucked.

His day was spent in bed, sleeping and sleeping and crying and then sleeping some more. It was close to the afternoon when he finally got up, stomach empty but not growling. He showered and dressed lazily in a pair of loose fitted jeans and a too big t-shirt over a long sleeved henley. Maybe with some real clothes on, he'd be less tempted to go back to his bed again. It was at least worth a shot.

The house stood quiet, empty, everyone out at school or work. Castiel sat in the kitchen for fifteen minutes. That was about all he could take before the painful silence became too overwhelming and he grabbed his keys and left as well, scribbling down a message on a piece of paper before leaving, his feet steering him down the street towards Dean's house. He hadn't been there in over three months, and he didn't exactly feel like going now either, but he _had_ to. He had to try to tell Dean his side of the story.

There was a huge tree in the Winchester's back garden, old and magnificent, full of branches perfect for climbing. Castiel heaved himself up the same way he had done hundreds of times before, and continued up and out until he could reach Dean's window.

It didn't occur to him that Dean might not be home, and that sliding up his window and climbing inside could probably, technically be classified as a break-in. It was most likely against the law to sneak into someone's house and wait for them to get home, but Castiel and Dean had been close, they had done that all the time, so Cas hoped Dean wouldn't mind when he did just that.

Turning around after sliding the window shut again, Castiel noticed the body bundled up under the covers in the bed.

“Are you awake?” Castiel mumbled quietly, walking over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it near Dean's feet. He hoped it was alright, not wanting to intrude more than necessary (seeing as he had just more or less broken into his home unannounced).

Dean cracked open an eye and glanced at him, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “How did you...?” he started as he sat up and put a hand to his forehead with a groan. “Damn. I don't even care that you broke into my room, my head is killing me.”

Dean reached to his nightstand, grabbing what Castiel assumed was a couple of painkillers and downed them quickly with a few gulps of a glass of water. Dean looked horrible, as if he had been out partying all night – but Cas knew that wasn't what he had been doing. Although, he did seem to be pretty hungover. Castiel never really partied much, but he recognized the look on Dean.

“Why are you here?” Dean asked, voice low and gruff, leaning back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. He studied his intruder with curiosity, maybe searching for answers on his face, things Castiel couldn't say with his words.

Castiel wondered then if maybe he should leave, but Dean seemed calm enough, there was nothing hostile or angry about him like the other day in school.

With a huff, Dean scooted closer down the bed towards Cas, reaching out a hand tentatively as if he wasn't sure if he was allowed to do that, prepared to pull it back in case of a bad reaction. “Your eyes are swollen. Why, have you been crying?” Dean put his hand to Castiel's face. “It ain't 'cause of me, is it?”

The room was stuffy, and Dean was asking too many questions too quickly, and Castiel felt like he didn't have time to answer any of them. Suddenly Dean's hand was on his face and Castiel wasn't sure whether to feel humiliated or angry.

He flinched away slightly just as Dean started stroking over his hot cheeks with the gentle pad of his thumb. It was like he'd been burned at Dean's touch. Castiel closed his eyes and pulled away.

“Dean. Don't,” he said flatly and looked away. “It hurts.” Not the physical contact itself, of course, but inside. He didn't need Dean's pity, he didn't want him to touch him like nothing had happened.

“I came in through the window, it was open. I climbed the tree. I'm sorry, it's weird. I used to do that all the time... before.” Castiel's voice was trembling and he fidgeted with his hands in his lap. “I don't blame you. It's not your fault, you couldn't help it.” He cleared his throat and dared to look up to meet Dean's eyes again. “I'm here because you need to know certain things. Like how just because you don't remember anything, it doesn't mean that nothing happened. I still remember. And you're telling me that none of that was real.”

Dean seemed to struggle with a reply. He'd crossed his arms over his chest again, holding himself back from reaching out towards Castiel again.

“I'm not... I'm not telling you it wasn't real. It just wasn't me,” Dean said with a shrug. “Okay, technically, it was, but that's not the point. The Dean you know is probably completely different from me. I know it happened, and I know it probably hurts like hell to see me forgetting.” The tone of Dean's voice broke with tension. He didn't sound angry, just desperate. He rubbed a hand over his face. “I don't know what to do. You've gotta tell me, man. Do you want me to pretend I remember? I can't do this, Cas. I can't just lie to myself. I forgot. And it sucks.” As if he ran out of anything else to say, Dean stopped promptly, eyes piercing through Castiel with ease before he looked down and away from him.

“That is exactly the same thing though,” Castiel mumbled back to him, turning his own face away as well. “No, of course I don't want you to lie, or pretend. That's not– I don't know what to do, Dean! You're not the only one who lost two years of your life for nothing.” Castiel's voice was loud, and he stood up off the bed and walking over to the window to stare outside as he continued talking, collecting himself for a moment. “You, or not-you, broke up with me. I'm... fine with that – or not really, but it is alright. I don't expect that to change. You made that very clear.  
“But hearing you say that you don't remember – I feel like I am losing my mind!” Cas spun around, eyes wide, panic painted on his face. He wasn't crying, but the sound of his voice could've fooled anyone. “You're telling me that it wasn't you – I mean, _you_ don't even know me! You don't expect me to show up unannounced, you're not comfortable around my staring, you don't _know_. I can't– I can't do this, I don't know what to do.” As the air left his lungs, Castiel slumped down dramatically against the wall and pulled his knees up to his chest. He buried his face against them and wondered why the hell he had even gone over there. “I'm sorry. It's not fair of me to put this on you. I'm just scared. I spent the entire summer trying to get over you, or not-you, and now he's.... He's completely gone.” Castiel chuckled against his knees, laughing bitterly. “Isn't that something?! I did it, right? I _really_ made him go away.”

A sound of rustling reached Castiel's ears, but he ignored it. Dean was stumbling out of bed and over towards him, shocked at what Castiel had said. He knelt down in front of Cas, his heart about to fall to pieces at the sight of him.

“It not like you're not important to me,” Dean mumbled, more to himself than to Castiel. Cas had all the answers. He held the key to Dean figuring out who he was, what had happened. The question was if Castiel was willing, or even had the strength left in him, to open up.


	2. Square One

Of course, Dean didn't know Cas, but he felt like he had known him forever when he looked at him. Looking at him, was like seeing one of those faintly familiar faces of someone you knew once in a dream.

Feelings rushed over Dean, feelings of wanting to comfort the broken, angry boy sitting on his floor. Feelings of wanting to lean in and rub his back, make him smile again, smell his hair. Dean had to clench his jaw at the sudden emotions that filled him in a strangely fitting way. It scared him though, and he held it back, pushed it away, and settled for putting his hands on Castiel's shoulders and just holding them there.

Dean didn't know what was happening, all those new feelings and emotions, it was overwhelming, like small parts of something that went missing a long time ago, something that was supposed to be erased forever from even the deepest corners of his mind. But he felt something. He felt like they were close.

“Dean, stop,” Castiel muttered, wanting nothing more than to collapse into a pile of nothing. Seeing Dean in the distance was one thing, but up close was so, so much worse. His arms were practically embracing him, the way Dean held him around the shoulders, and Castiel wanted to die.

“You're not allowed to,” he kept muttering, but despite his own words, Castiel fisted his hands in Dean's t-shirt. “This isn't fair,” his voice wavered dangerously, and what was the point of holding back the tears? This _wasn't_ the Dean that had broken up with him, and he had no reason to keep away from this Dean. So Castiel moved his arms around Dean's body too and held him back, digging his fingertips into his back and buried his face in the crook of Dean's neck. And although he knew he would regret it later, he reveled in his smell.

God, he had missed Dean so much. The way his body seemed to fit so well against his own, how intoxicating his smell was. Castiel never wanted to let go again, but he had to, eventually, because this was a stranger, and he was being weird.

Castiel pulled away first, wiping at his eyes, ashamed.

“He never told me, you know...” he mumbled, talking about _his Dean_ in third person. Because even though this Dean looked, talked and smelled liked his Dean, it wasn't. It was horrible, seeing this shell that looked like a faint memory of his best friend and ex-boyfriend, being inhabited by someone else. “About the accident. He said he'd been in an accident, but he never told me what had happened, or that he was amnesiac.” Castiel looked at his shoes as he spoke. “I never thanked him for what he did for me... and we ended things on a fight, and now he's gone.” A sniffle escaped him, and he looked up, meeting those exact same, gorgeous green eyes, but they looked different now, somehow. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here. I know I'm just a stranger to you.”

Castiel got up on his feet and looked around the room. He couldn't leave yet, there was something he had to have first. Hoping this-Dean wouldn't mind, Castiel went over to a drawer and pulled it open to dig through it. Castiel knew, or at least hoped, that Dean still kept it in there. Jo had mentioned something the week after they had broken up about how Dean made it look like he didn't give a fuck, but that deep down, he did. Castiel moved around a couple of car-magazines, skin magazines and other of Dean's crap before he found it in the bottom. A framed photograph of the two of them before heading to a concert a bit over six months ago. The were wearing matching band t-shirts, and Dean was doing his stupid blue-steel. Castiel hadn't been prepared when the photo was taken, so he ended up looking all dumbstruck and shocked. Dean had said he liked it because it apparently “really looked like him” or something. The glass was cracked, but Castiel already knew that. He'd flipped it over on purpose one time during a fight.

“Can I have this?” Castiel held up the picture and turned to the new-Dean.

Dean stepped up to look at it. “Sure, take it. What happened to it though, did I...?” he mumbled and glanced at Castiel.

Castiel clutched the framed picture to his chest, because the Dean in it was _his_ and he walked and held a completely different posture and way about himself than what this Dean did. Old Dean had a whole other light to him. But maybe that was just a small, petty little thing that only Castiel noticed. Even if Dean had said no, Castiel would have found a way to take it with him anyway. That picture belonged to him, it was one of the few pictures of his-Dean that he had. It wasn't like it meant something to this new version of Dean anyway.

“No,” Castiel shook his head, glancing at the photo of them again. “It was a few days before Dean broke up with me,” he said and grimaced because it felt so surreal to talk to Dean, about himself, but yet another....deeply concealed and hidden away part of him. “This picture used to stand on there,” he nodded to the drawer, “we had a small argument that turned into a fight and I swung my arms around, deliberately pushing it over. I don't remember why I did it, it's not like me to act out.” He ran his fingertips over the broken glass over the picture.

Meanwhile, Dean had moved to sit on his bed with his laptop flipped open. Castiel sat down at the foot of the bed. “Or did you mean when it was taken?” he asked, putting the picture down on the mattress.

“I was talking about when it was taken,” Dean said with small frown, eyes glued to the screen in front of him as he searched for a folder he'd found a couple of weeks earlier. He huffed out a breath and closed the lid to the laptop and set it aside.

The corner of Castiel's mouth twitched slightly and he smiled. “Oh,” he glanced at the picture, “of course. It was the beginning of February, Dean and I–” he paused, “... You and I, I mean, I guess... We were going to see Metallica. I had gotten us tickets as a Christmas gift for you that year, and you were looking forward to it so much.” Castiel smiled at the memory, a warmth spreading through his chest. He'd spent forever trying to come up with a gift for Dean, and then two days before Christmas Eve, the tour was announced and the tickets came on sale, like a freaking Christmas miracle.

It was weird talking about it as if he had been there with this-Dean though, because he wasn't. The old Dean had come up with who he was from scratch, probably created himself and his personality from nothing. This-Dean was who he was before that. He didn't have the change and growth and everything that Cas had been there to witness.

“Um, anyway. We were going to drive out to Kansas City to see them, and we'd bought t-shirts before and you made me wear it even though I wasn't that into their music. Jo took the picture right before we left. Of course Dea– _you_ got into a fight later that night outside the venue,” Castiel chuckled, “and somehow managed to get the bartender to sell you beer even though we're underage. Dean could flirt his way into anything, I'm sure. I've never see someone with such huge confidence and simultaneously so much self-hatred before... I, um, I helped him get away from there before he and his big mouth got us into real trouble and then we drove back home.” Castiel looked back up at the boy that was supposedly Dean, and shrugged. “Was there anything else in particular you were wondering about? I don't mind talking about it, although it does hurt quite a lot.”

It was a lot to take in. To Dean, it didn't sound like anything but a story. He still liked Metallica, and he knew he could use his charm in a convincing manner. But the rest... It was hard to process that it was a memory that he was a part of, and that was just one out of thousands more. There was still the pull in his chest, the one that cared a lot for the boy sitting across from him, but he didn't understand why, and he couldn't attach it to anything substantial.

“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked quietly.

Castiel tilted his head to the side. “What do you want to know? The whole thing or... just the ending?”

For some reason, Dean shook his head. “You don't have to, forget I asked. You'd probably be better off not thinking about all that, right? Let alone see my face.” Dean's lips moved into a smile, but it didn't really reach his eyes.

“I'm here now, there's no avoiding this whole thing whether we like it or not. We have to, or at least I have to, face this sometime. And I'd like it to be done and over with sooner rather than later,” Castiel said and shrugged his shoulders. “It hurts more to have it be dragged out.” He could easily see through Dean's fake smile. Dean had never been good at that, his genuine smile made him shine, it was easy to spot among the fake ones.

The silence that fell over the room was stiff. Outside the sky rumbled, a storm forming in the distance.

“You hungry?” Dean asked after a moment. “I could order something if you want to, or empty out the fridge.”

“I suppose I could eat.” Although Castiel couldn't exactly feel it in his stomach because of how emotionally overwhelming everything had been recently, but he was sure he should be hungry. “If you don't mind me staying, that is. You still don't know me, I'd understand if you want me to leave.”

Despite the slightly awkward atmosphere, things felt normal for a second. Castiel sitting on Dean's bed, probably feeling more at home in the room than Dean did at the moment, about to order food, the silence not completely uncomfortable anymore.

“It's okay, you can stay,” Dean said and watched as Castiel seemed to zone out for a few seconds.

He followed Castiel's line of sight, turning his head to the window where the tree stood sturdily just outside. Castiel seemed fixed on in.

“I could tell you about myself, or how we met, if you'd like,” Castiel said, his thoughts and mind obviously somewhere else than in Dean's room at the moment. The sentence came out forced, as if he was trying very hard to keep the conversation going, fishing for something to talk about.

Dean pondered this for a moment.

“Or you could... tell me about the accident.” Castiel blinked a few times and pulled his eyes from the window to face Dean again. “Like I said, _he_ never told me anything about it.”

The floor seemed to stick under the sole of his shoes as Dean made his way over to join Castiel on his bed. He snatched his phone off the bedside table, then flopped down with a groan. “I don't remember much, most of what I know is stuff Sam told me.”

Dean stared at his phone and pushed in a number, only glancing at Cas when he was done.

“I'll tell you what I know, alright? But first, we order pizza, I'm starving. What d'you want?”

“Okay, Dean,” Castiel mumbled, the words rolling off his tongue with ease and familiarity. He hated how although he felt so at home in Dean's room, he also felt like a stranger intruding someone else's privacy. It was conflicting. In one way, he felt relaxed and all he wanted was to lay down on the bed, roll to his side and push Dean's pillow up under his neck. Not because he was tired, but because that was something friends could do at each other's places. But he couldn't do that. Because he was a stranger, and technically, so was Dean.

Castiel pushed his shoulders back and made a point to sit slightly more upright, folding his hands in his lap.

“I like mine with bacon and lots of cheese. And pineapple. You do too, or did, if you're wondering.” Maybe it wasn't a good idea to keep telling Dean things like that. He didn't want to point Dean in a direction that wasn't him, whoever he was. They were two separate personalities. Castiel had to remember that. He had to let Dean figure himself out.“Never mind, order whatever you want. I'm just being sentimental.” Castiel looked at the photo again, feeling almost angry when he looked at it. He wanted to pull Dean out of the frame, yell at him and maybe push him, ask him _why_ , why did he leave him? “Do you think it will ever come back to you?” he asked carefully. “Those two years? Do you think you'll ever remember?”

A sort of painful quietness filled the room. Then Dean sighed and put the phone to the side.

“I dunno. Might happen. I only know what the doc told me, that those patients usually have to be put away, because everything mixes up and makes them confused and depressed.” Dean clenched his jaw, wishing the doctor had told him something about what would or could happen to the people close to the patients. Some sort of guiding in how to deal with estranged friends would've been really helpful.

Castiel wasn't looking at him, he was still staring at that goddamn picture. Dean grabbed his phone again, and cleared his throat loudly. “Bacon with a shitload of cheese sounds like me,” he said with a chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood. “Not sure about pineapple though, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and give it a try. You only live once, right?”

Yeah. Right.

After ordering the food, Dean turned to Castiel, and – much to his surprise – grabbed the picture from his hands. “I'll give it back to you, promise, just make yourself at home,” Dean muttered, and put the picture down on his pillow. If Cas really wanted to get to know him, he had to get out of the past and jump back into the present. No matter how painful it might be.

“So, the accident, huh?” Dean rubbed a hand over his face. “It happened at night, there was a thunderstorm, I think we were on our way home from visiting my Mom's grave. I honestly don't know what happened. Dad blames it on the rain, says he lost control of the car because of hydroplaning, but if you ask me that's just bullshit. The guy could barely walk straight. Should've never let him in that car. Anyway... Suddenly this tree just comes up and covers the windshield and I knew it was going to happen. I just hoped Sam would be okay.” He had to stop, compose himself. The crash was still too fresh in his memory, as if it had happened just a short time ago. “You know that feeling of falling you get sometimes when you're about to fall asleep? That's what it was like just before. And then I woke up and I was two years older. I think you know the rest of the story.”

Castiel shifted awkwardly on the bed. “Yeah I do,” he sighed. It was so unfortunate. He could fill in the two year long blanks that Dean couldn't. And even if he did remember, it would probably only be like a strange dream that didn't feel real to him. Dean had practically been sleepwalking for two years. And with that thought, Castiel's stomach turned upside down again and he felt like he was having an out of body experience or something. Like the room was too small and the walls were moving closer, and he couldn't breathe.

“I can't–“ Castiel pressed out before he suddenly rose from the bed and started pacing. “I can't make myself at home, because although I've been here a million times, it was never...” He stopped and took a deep breath, and then another one. He felt ashamed, he couldn't keep embarrassing himself like this, it wasn't like him. “You said that if you could remember, you would be confused, because things would mix up? Well that's about how I am feeling right now. You were right here, with me, for two years and it wasn't you. You were _sleepwalking_ , someone else was wearing your skin and pretending to be you, fooling everybody and I was so stupid and I fell for it, and then you woke up as you say, and it was all a dream – I feel like I'm... I don't understand, Dean, _you were right here_. You basically saved my life, and I wish I could just shake you and you would come back! Come back...” Castiel could feel the stinging in his throat and nose that indicated that he was about to either cry or scream, his heart thundered away in his chest and this time it was causing _him_ to crash, his eyes were so wide that it felt like they were about to pop out of their sockets.

Castiel stared at Dean, and unable to keep it up anymore, he let out a shaky breath. “I miss him, Dean, I miss him so much,” his bottom lip trembled when he spoke and he blinked excessively to keep from crying. He sobbed quietly, without tears. “What did I do? Maybe if he hadn't ended things he'd still be here? Did I do this? Did I make him so upset that he pushed himself away... Did he wake you up? Is this my fault? I can't go on like this, it hurts, I need him...” Castiel trailed off and hid his face in his hands. God, he felt so pathetic, and he knew in that moment that he was probably the one that needed to talk to that doctor, more than Dean.

The guilt in Dean's chest was overwhelming him, and he wasn't sure how to react. He couldn't do more than just sit there and watch Castiel as he struggled with the past and present as they collided and probably created a chaotic mess inside his mind. Maybe it would be for the better if Cas didn't have to see him again, if Dean just vanished once and for all and never came back? At least that would give him a fair chance of letting go properly, and move on. How hard wouldn't it be for the guy to try to get over him if he had to see his face pretty much every day for at least the whole next year.

But Dean wasn't so sure _he_ wanted that himself. He wanted to give Cas a chance, he wanted to know what he had missed out on, and Cas was his best chance of finding out.

Getting up from the bed, Dean walked over to Cas and wrapped his arms around him properly, trying to comfort the guy for the second time that day, even though Cas probably didn't want him to. Cas probably wanted him to go back to where he came from and get his old Dean back. Maybe if he hadn't woken up, they would have gotten closer again and given it a new try.

“I'm sorry I'm like this,” Castiel said quietly against Dean's shoulder. His arms had found their way around Dean's body too, his arms resting at the small of his back. “It's not easy, and it's not your fault. I don't wish to make you feel bad, or uncomfortable.”

“Hey, it's okay,” Dean said with a sigh and held the boy closer in his arms. It was surprisingly nice to feel him that close, the way Cas' dark hair tickled his chin and neck, the warmth and weight of his body. Feeling needed.

“I'm usually not like this,” Castiel continued, feeling like he had to excuse his behavior. “It's been very difficult lately. I wish someone had told me. Why didn't Sam or Jo tell me? I had the right to know, you're my best friend.”

“Because,” Dean paused, closing his eyes as the ugly memories played on repeat inside his mind, “because of my dad. You know, after the crash, they didn't know at first either, the hospital knew something was up though, what with the injuries and swelling in my brain and all.”

He explained that everything had seemed like normal, at first. Dean was still the same old Dean. It wasn't like all of his memories had gone away all of a sudden. His family didn't find it particularly strange that he wasn't talking about his friends or spending time with them, after all he had just gone through the trauma of being in a car crash.

But then strange things started happening, small things, things that could go unnoticed at first for a while, things Sam and John would brush off with some easy excuse because of the circumstances. It went on for a while, until the small things grew bigger, and everyone realized that it was much worse than what any of them had expected. It could no longer be excused when Dean didn't really remember who his friends were, or when he didn't recognized extended family when they came to visit and he shut the door in their faces. John, Worst Dad of the Year as he was, obviously didn't care much, but it had Sam on the tip of his toes.

It all culminated one afternoon when Sam was in the kitchen, making himself something to eat, his backpack left carelessly on the kitchen table. He had his back towards the entrance when Dean came in, and only turned around when he heard the rough pull of his backpack as Dean grabbed it suddenly.

“Really? You still leaving your crap around like this? Mom works hard enough as it is, cut her some slack, Sammy. You don't appreciate her enough.”

The rest of the day hadn't been particularly fun for either of them. Thankfully, Dean hadn't forgotten all about Mary's death, and he had caught himself a moment later as memories got mixed up inside his mind. _“Mom's not alive, is she?”_ Dean had asked and sat down on a chair by the table, gently setting down Sam's backpack. He had told Sam then, about the little things, and the big things, about messing up and not understanding certain things, and eventually Dean had agreed to go to the doctor after Sam called Jo's mom, Ellen (who cared a hell of a lot more about the boys than what their own father did).

Dean's mind hadn't been completely wiped clean, but bits and pieces were missing, some of them bigger than others. But the years passed, and things were well.

Until that morning when he woke up, and the trauma of the car crash was as fresh in Dean's mind as if he had lived it just the day before, and pretty much everything that had happened since then wasn't even a faint dream in his mind. That hadn't been a very fun day for any of them either.

Dean moved his hand up and down Castiel's back as he told him tidbits of what had happened after the accident and then after his waking-up.

“Dad not telling you... I guess that doesn't surprise me. But Sammy? I don't know. Maybe they just didn't wanna make things worse. Hell, I didn't even know about you until I started finding things, pictures and stuff and then they filled me in on the rest.”

Castiel had finally stilled in Dean's arms. He was quiet, didn't say anything, maybe thinking about everything that Dean had finally told him, or maybe just relishing in the feeling of having him so close again. Dean could hear the tremble still in his breath though, and started humming on a soft melody as he kept stroking Castiel's back.

This whole thing couldn't be easy on Cas, Dean knew that. But in the end, they were the same person, the pre-amnesia him and the one he was now. They just had slightly different backgrounds and memories, but they were both _Dean_ , made up from the same chromosomes and with the same DNA, with the exact same brain – well, kind of anyway. How different could they be? Dean wished he would remember, at least some time in the future, because he deserved those memories too.

Dean slowly started breaking apart the hug, pulling Castiel away from him carefully, putting his hands on his shoulders so he could look him in the eyes. They were glassy, slightly red, but nothing too bad. The blue in his eyes were bright, it reminded Dean of when he was younger and spent hot summer days in the lake, floating just beneath the surface of the water, watching the sunbeams break through and make everything glimmer.

“You always used to do that,” Cas said and tilted his head to the side, his bright blue eyes piercing through Dean, and he felt awkward and uncomfortable as if Castiel had somehow managed to look right into his mind and read his thoughts.

“W-what do you mean?” Dean asked.

Castiel's lips twitched and he smiled softly. “Whenever you got stressed or scared or needed to calm me, or Sam, or yourself down... You hummed that song.”

“Oh,” Dean gave Cas a breathy, lopsided grin and rubbed a hand over his face, “Yeah, my mom used to sing that to me when I was a kid. But I bet you knew that already, huh?” A faint blush crawled up over Dean's neck. There were so many things that Castiel already knew about him, stories and parts of him that he didn't even know himself yet.

“Yes, you've told me all about her, many times,” Castiel said, smiling fondly at the memories.

Rubbing a hand over his face, Dean walked back over to the bed and nodded for Cas to follow after him. He slumped down and placed his legs folded over the covers. “You should stay,” he said, and shrugged as Cas gave him a look. “You know, after we've got the grub down. You should hang out a while, let me take you home if it gets dark. Clearly you know me better than I know myself, and I wanna get to know both of us.”

“I don't know, Dean,” Castiel's eyes traveled around the room again, as if he was deliberately avoiding eye contact, maybe uncomfortable by Dean's straightforwardness. “I appreciate the offer, but I live just down the street, I will be fine.”

Again, it was strange to hear all this new information – things he was supposed to know about Cas, like where he lived, what toppings he liked on his pizza.

Dean must have looked more disappointed than he felt, because Castiel suddenly looked back at him with a hopeful smile on his lips, shoulders slouching slightly as he relaxed.

“Let's wait until the pizza arrives, and then I might consider it.”

***

When the sound of the doorbell went through the house, announcing the arrival of their food, Dean disappeared out of his room for a few minutes, leaving Castiel all by himself in a room that threatened to drown or devour him with painful memories of a better time.

He sank down on Dean's bed, curled his fingers into a big bundle of soft cotton and relaxed as he heard the front door being pulled open downstairs. Castiel grabbed Dean's pillow and pressed it to his face, breathing in the smell of sweat and old beer, and something else that was just _Dean_. This was sick, he really needed help. This behavior was so unhealthy and would probably just make it worse for both of them in the end. As he exhaled, he put the pillow back down and got up from the bed, walking over to the other side of the room to look at some of Dean's things on his bookshelf and desk. A lot had changed over the summer. Maybe it was Dean, maybe it was his family. Maybe it was Dean before he regained his old self and was still sore from their break up. Everything that had any sentimental value to them as a couple was gone. Probably hidden away in a box somewhere in the attic or something. But Cas still knew Dean's room like his own back pocket.

He was looking at an old award plaque of Dean's when the door to his room was kicked open and Dean entered holding two big boxes that filled the room with the smell of grease and bacon.

“How much do you think Sammy's gonna hate me for not getting him pizza as well? Smells delicious, don't it?” he asked with a chuckle, then promptly put the boxes down on top of his bed.

It was obvious that the truth of them and their history had finally begun to sink in with Dean. The forced conversation, the strain in the way he chuckled.

Castiel put the plaque back down and walked back.

“He might be a little jealous,” Castiel said as he sat down and opened one of the boxes, grabbing a slice for himself. “But I don't think he'll mind that much, unless he's changed dramatically over the past few months.”

“Yeah, I guess you're right.”

The pizza was still hot in his hand, the cheese perfectly melty, glistening together with the juices from the pineapple and bacon grease.

Castiel kicked his shoes off, pulled his legs up and kept his eyes on his food, then on Dean's hands as he opened his own box to grab a slice, anywhere other than on Dean's face. It was exhausting to try to act like they were old friends when they barely knew each other. And just like that, there it was. The pressing, ear deafening, awkward silence.

They ate their pizzas in silence, Castiel was only half-through his when Dean grabbed his last slice, leaning back against the headboard of the bed with a satisfied grunt. At least that hadn't changed about him, Castiel noted with a smile; Dean still ate as if he was bottomless.

As Castiel struggled with finishing his pizza – his stomach feeling full to the very brink with everything else, he heard Dean mumble something through the food in his mouth, and his eyes shot up to look at him, eyebrows tightly knitted together in a frown.

“Tell me something about you, about us,” Dean repeated with a shrug.

Castiel swallowed hard and put the slice of pizza he had been chewing on for what felt like the past century down, wiping his mouth. He couldn't decide if he loved or hated the way Dean said _'us'_.

“Uh, alright,” Castiel wiped his mouth and tried to find a spot to focus his eyes on before he glanced at Dean, “My family moved here about two years ago, it must have been close after your accident. I didn't blend in as well as I'd hoped to, at least not as well as my sister, Anna, did, or my brother. They both had lots of friends within the first week, and though I hung out a lot with Anna and her friends, I still felt like a clingy brother. We met unofficially for the first time when I was with Anna and Jo by my locker, and Jo went to give you something, a note or– I don't know, it's irrelevant. There were only a few lockers between ours, and we made eye contact. It was uncomfortable. Neither one of us really pulled away, I think we both felt awkward.”

Castiel's eyes had dropped down to the half-eaten pizza in the box. As he paused, his eyes traveled over to Dean's legs where they lay folded, and then up over his torso to his arms, and he tried to make sense of it all, how this person was the exact same as the Dean he'd known before.

“You didn't even know me but you stood up for me a few days later, when some idiot taunted me for spending time with my sister and her friends. I could stand up for myself, not that I cared that much about his comments, but all of a sudden you were by my side and told me that any friend of Jo's was a friend of yours. I was new at school, and it was weird for me, but later that fall we were assigned a group project together and we,” Castiel shrugged, “We became friends. The rest took some time. I think we both had to come to terms with ourselves first.”

Dean chuckled and ducked his head as he looked down, his chin pressing against his chest.

“I'm uh, glad the other me did that for you.”

“I'm glad about that too,” Castiel replied, overly aware of the hint of hesitation in his voice.

Castiel pulled his eyes away from him again, staring around the room instead, then back down at the food, almost as if he was trying to look for answers there that were nowhere to be found in the new Dean, or in himself. Cas stared blankly at the food, almost zoning out for a little while. _It's Dean, it's the same Dean_ , he thought to himself. It had to be. Only different. But the exact same person nonetheless.

Eventually, Castiel sighed and gave a small shake of his head, picking up a now cold slice of pizza.

“I mean, now... I wonder if I'd rather he hadn't. But I suppose, having known him is better than not having known him at all when it comes down to it.”

Catching up on your life two years later wasn't easy, and Dean wondered if he could manage it. He didn't know anything about the guy in front of him – hell, two years ago Dean didn't really know that he was into guys at all. It wasn't like he could just pretend like nothing had happened and they would both be fine?

“If I hadn't stood up for you that day, you probably wouldn't be talking to me right now,” Dean said, his lips pressed together in a thin line. “I know myself, the now-or-previous me or whatever the hell I am anyway, and I ain't so sure I would've talked to you at all.”

The honestly in Dean's voice was sharp enough to cut deep into Castiel. Out of all the horrible things Castiel could have imagined Dean could have said, that must have been one of the worst. He let out a small breathy sound, his lips falling slightly open, as if someone had knocked the air out of him. It felt like Dean had just punched a hole right through his chest and ripped his heart out all over again, making all the air and oxygen in the world disappear at the same time. Castiel quickly closed his mouth again and shrunk back, scooting over on the bed after putting the pizza slice back down in the box. He didn't know what to say, if there even existed a suitable word for what he was feeling. All he could do was blink at Dean, not able to understand who this person was in front of him, looking and sounding exactly like someone who used to be wonderful. Nothing was the same anymore.

“I, um...” He wouldn't have talked to him at all. They were from different worlds; Dean clearly the superior of the two. Too cool for someone like Cas.

Except that sounded nothing like him. Dean was not cool, not in the popular-at-school way at least. Maybe this Dean thought he was? He probably thought Castiel was weak and pathetic and nerdy because he came into his room, crying and acting like a loser or something. When, to be honest, Castiel would argue that it was the opposite. Dean was worlds nerdier than him, and for example showed up at school more often than Cas did.

Castiel wondered why Dean who was sitting in front of him right now, was so intent on the idea that he wouldn't have talked to him? What did this Dean have that the old one didn't? Or the other way around?  
Despite the pain it would probably cause, Castiel was curious to find out.

“Hey, it'll be fine. I'll try my best okay?” Dean said.

Things would definitely not be okay, and Castiel wasn't even sure if he wanted Dean to try his best. He shouldn't have to try at all in the first place. And Cas didn't want him to, because he clearly wasn't over his Dean yet. He didn't want a replacement that couldn't even live up to the expectations (not that Castiel had many).

“Okay,” Castiel said with a small sigh and closed the box in front of him, then stretched his arms out. “Uh I'm not feeling very... It's been a long day, at least it feels like it. I should... Thank you for the pizza, Dean.” Castiel shot him a smile and then got up from the bed, grabbing the photograph and headed over to the window. He could have probably just gone downstairs and walked out the front door, but that seemed complicated compared to retracing his steps and going down the tree the same way he'd heaved himself up.

Castiel stared out the window, let his eyes slowly, mindlessly wander over the tree that stood closely by it, but he wasn't really looking. His mind was elsewhere, off in what now felt like a distant fantasy, or a dream even. He kind of understood how Dean must be feeling – but he didn't want to think about that anymore. Funny, how his head kept steering him back in that direction over and over again anyway, against his will, when all he wanted was to turn it off for five fucking minutes.

“I'm sorry,” Dean mumbled, and Castiel stopped dead in his movements when he heard the apologize.

_Dean never apologizes._

“I know,” Castiel mumbled back and then turned around, glancing at Dean carefully as if he was going to fade away. “You don't have to tell me,” he continued, at it was true. He could see it in Dean's eyes, sense it from the awkwardness they had shared for the past hour or so. Castiel was sorry too. “It's okay. You're not him – or you are, but without two years worth of knowledge and experiences. It's not your fault.”

Absentminded, Castiel ran his fingers over Dean's desk as he took a few steps closer back to the bed again, stopping just a bit from where Dean was sat. Holding out his hand, Castiel cleared his throat, doing the only thing that made sense to him in that moment.

“Hello, Dean. My name is Castiel Milton.”

It was about time they had a proper introduction.

Dean stared at the hand held out in front of him for a moment, eyes slightly narrowed as he contemplated what to do with it. Then he grabbed it, chuckling as he gave Castiel's hand a proper shake, and a gleam sparkled in his eye as he pulled the other boy back down on the bed.

“Nice to meet you,” Dean said, still holding his hand. “Do we need to do this? Isn't it just gonna make things more awkward?”

Castiel shrugged. Perhaps Dean was right, they didn't have to do this. But Castiel wanted to. This Dean didn't know him, didn't he at least want to get to know him? Then again, he didn't have any reason to.

“Well, I know you, or I thought I did at least,” Castiel answered, swiping his free hand over the mattress, pushing the pizza boxes away to make more room for himself. “It only seems fair that you get to know me too. After all, we did spend two years together, whether you like it or not.” He pulled his hand from Dean's.

Castiel realized that he hadn't thought about how awkward this might be for Dean, not knowing anything about him or the times they spent together, how intimate they used to be.

“You said you wouldn't talk to me,” Cas breathed out, still not fully aware of how those words could have come out of Dean's mouth. It was hard to mention out loud. “If it wasn't for... the complicated situation we both are in. So why are you, Dean? I don't want to be wasting your time. Tell me if I should leave, and I will. I will leave you to it, if that's what you want.” Cas paused, swallowing, his throat feeling dry like sandpaper. “It can't be easy to wake up one day, to all of this. I know you haven't deal with this yet, not _you_ -you anyway; being... feeling attraction towards someone of the same gender, I mean. I've seen you go through that small internal crisis once already, though you don't remember that.”

Dean seemed to think this over for a while before he answered, it gave Castiel a moment to let his own thoughts sink in. Usually – at least in Castiel's experience, Dean was the kind of person who would talk first and think later, the kind of person who would say whatever came to mind. Castiel had always admired that, but seeing him hesitate now, and think about how he wanted to shape his reply, it was equally as admirable.

“Honestly, I dunno,” Dean said finally.

Castiel let out a small chuckle, having expected maybe at least a little more than that. And as it was, Dean didn't disappoint.

“I want to talk to you, Cas. I mean, yeah it's awkward, but on second thought, you've gotta be a pretty special guy, since all of my friends are awesome and I obviously have great taste in friends, so,” Dean said, grinning widely at Cas, shrugging his shoulders slightly. “You know, I kind of half expected to run into some old, angry ex girlfriend on that first day of school, not some tall dude staring daggers at me.” 

This time when Dean smiled, it was softer. And no matter how upset Castiel had been feeling all day, and was still feeling for the most part, he could not resist the small smile that crawled up onto his lips too when Dean told him about what he had expected on the first day back at school. It sounded like something that was so typically Dean. Castiel even laughed a little, quietly, and only for a split second, but he laughed.

“Truthfully, if I didn't know that you had spent nearly the last two years with me, then I would have expected that to happen to you too. You were like that when we first met. Something of a ladies man.”

“Huh.”

Against Castiel's permission, his heart made a sad attempt at fluttering, like a butterfly with a broken wing, trapped in the cage of his chest. It was not fair, the way Dean could so easily play with his emotions like this. Dean was so in control of him.

They sat in silence for a moment, Dean only breaking the silence when Castiel started fidgeting with a piece of cardboard from one of the pizza boxes. “Look man, I understand if you don't feel comfortable around me, just like you don't wanna make me uncomfortable either.”

“I'm not uncomfortable. Not enough, anyway, that's the problem. I'm too comfortable, and you are not. I know you're not... _my_ Dean, or I should say, my _ex,_ Dean, but you look like him, and well, you know. You're technically a stranger.”

“Don't worry about it, this situation is already so fucked up, a little more won't hurt. Besides, I was more uncomfortable when I was alone. I'm glad you're here, at least you're not trying to shelter me or act like those two years of my life never happened.”

“That's not fair of them, Dean,” Castiel said honestly, he couldn't hold that thought back because really? Who does something like that? Just as much as he felt like he had the right to know, and should have been informed as soon as Dean 'woke up', he felt that Dean had the right to know certain things too. It was his life after all.

To keep his hands busy, Castiel grabbed both the boxes from the bed, wiped crumbs to the floor, and then dropping them with a light thud to the carpet next to the bed. A gesture that felt all too familiar. They had spent so many nights staying in, watching movies or playing video games, while stuffing themselves full with pizza or any other junk food they could get their hands on.

It broke Castiel's heart that the only thing on Dean's mind right now was probably only that he would have to clean up later.

“You can ask me, anytime, about anything and everything that went on during those two years, you should know that. I'll tell you, anything you want to know.”

“Thanks, Cas. But I can't ask you all the time, it wouldn't be fair on you if you'd constantly be reminded of those times. I don't wanna hurt you more than I've already done.” It wasn't like he could just use Cas. He was human, not some kind of machine you could just ask anything and it would answer without any emotional consequence. “Just tell me something small, if it comes to mind, okay? Anything, I'll listen.”

As Dean spoke, Castiel's eyes found his hands again. He nodded, but he wanted to tell Dean that it was okay for him to be curious, he wanted to tell him that he physically and mentally could not summon up the strength and energy on his own to think about their times together, that he would need Dean to prompt him. The entire summer had passed somewhere in the background while Castiel was curled up in his bed trying to repress every tiny detail about Dean. There was so much scar-tissue healed over where his heart had been ripped out, he couldn't possibly claw his way back in there, open up those wounds again. Not on his own. He would need someone to stop the bleeding and help him keep his hand steady when he did.

“Dean, no. No, I can't.” Castiel shook his head and felt uneasy. “You don't know what happened, you don't know why I can't–“ he sighed, “You'll have to tell me, if there is something you want to know – a blank I need to fill in for you, a password to a folder or something on your computer, _little things_ , you'll have to ask me. I can't open up to you again on my own when I don't even know if you care.” That last part wasn't entirely true. Somewhere deep down, Castiel was sure Dean still cared about him, it was in his nature to care about people, no matter if he knew them well or not.

In lack of anything better to do, Castiel pulled out his cell phone and started pressing down on different buttons.

“I'm sending a text to my sister. I only left a note, but I didn't tell her or anyone where I went, or for how long I'd be out.”

“You should call her,” Dean pointed out, then suddenly got up off the bed. “You mind if I take a shower?” Dean asked, already pulling out fresh clothes from a drawer.

“Do you want me to leave?” Castiel asked with a puzzled expression on his face.

“You can stay if you want. I won't be long, just wanna wash the stink off me, for both our sakes.”

“Uh, sure. Okay.”

Dean was out of the room in a moment, once again leaving Castiel to his own devices.

The house was eerily quiet, too quiet, except for the splashing noise coming from downstairs of water hitting the bathroom tiles. When his phone buzzed, he almost jumped.

 _'Don't let him hurt you, Cas. Don't make me have to yell at him.'_ Anna wrote to him in her reply.

Castiel stretched his legs out, liking the way they felt lying flat against Dean's bed. He had missed it so much. Just like earlier, Castiel wanted to get up and walk around freely in Dean's room, look at his books or go through his drawers, trying to keep himself busy to have something to do. But it weirded him out now. He knew his old Dean wouldn't mind, and this Dean probably wouldn't either (but Castiel guessed that was more out of courtesy, because let's be real, it was weird). So Castiel stayed put on Dean's bed, moving around so that he was sitting with his back against the headboard, and grabbed Dean's laptop. As if it wasn't worse than going through his drawers.

Castiel clenched his jaw. He didn't really want to intrude. So he clicked into one of the password protected folders he guessed this Dean couldn't open anyway, a folder he remembered Dean had with pictures of the two of them from different times they had spent together. New Year's, Christmas... Dean's birthday. Valentine's.

Watching the photos, Castiel lost track of time, and when he realized that he could no longer hear the water running, the door to Dean's room was already being pushed open.

“Hey– what are you doing?” Dean asked with a stern look on his face, jaw tight and eyebrows even tighter. His hair was still kind of dripping, damp and gorgeous, his face a little flush from the hot water.

Castiel wasn't sure where to look. He tried to exit out of the folder at the same time as he tried to come up with an excuse but it was really easier said than done, especially since Dean was over by his side in about 0.2 seconds and grabbing the laptop from his hands.

Then he stopped.

“I've never seen these before, how did you–“ Dean sank down onto the bed, deep in thought.

“Yes you have,” Castiel said, “You've seen them, you were the one who uploaded them. You just don't remember it.”

“I'm sorry,” Dean whispered, closing his laptop and setting it aside. “I wish I did. Would've made all this a whole lot easier.”

They didn't say much more to each other. Castiel promised Dean to give him the password if he wanted it, and then he climbed back out the window, almost forgetting the photograph.

His legs were heavy on the way back to his house. Castiel had always felt a lot more comfortable and at home at the Winchester's than at his own house. They didn't share the same kind of rules, and he never felt like he had to act or behave in a certain way when he was over at Dean's place. Their home had become some sort of sanctuary for him. Whenever he had trouble at home or something happened, he could always just walk over the short distance to Dean's house and things would be okay for the moment. He guessed that was why it was so easy for him to go over there earlier that afternoon without thinking much beforehand, even though the time probably wasn't the best, and he really didn't have any right to be there in the first place.

They had only managed to scratch the surface of everything tonight, and although Castiel still hoped it would take some weight off his shoulders, it had only added to it. He felt sick. He was pushing this poor boy's personal space too far, and probably being too weird and pushy and needy and it wasn't fair of him.

Out of the corner of his eye, as he sneaked out through the garden, Castiel could see Dean's little brother arrive home from football practice, or something, and immediately he felt relieved that he had left when he did. That confrontation was something he wanted to leave for another time.

The wind was rough, biting into Castiel's skin, and a light rain began to fall. Thankfully it didn't take long until he was walking up the driveway to his house, his cell phone letting him know that it was already close to nine in the evening.

Of course, Castiel's return home did not go unnoticed. Anna was in his room almost before he could step inside himself. She was curious, kept asking all these questions of why he left to go see Dean, and what happened, how did it go? “Why were you there for _so_ long, I thought you guys weren't friends anymore,” and about a million other things she tried to harass out of him. And although Castiel was pretty sure he could detect a note of excitement in her voice, her face was filled with concern, which, to be honest, made a lot of sense, since he had spent almost all of summer isolating himself off from the world in his room, moping over Dean Winchester, the boy that broke his heart. She was just worried there would soon be a sequel to the first disaster.

“Anna. Nothing happened, he doesn't know me, I don't know him. And I'm not certain yet if I want to go down that road again.”

“Okay,” Anna said and gave him a kiss on the cheek, then said good night and left his room.

Castiel stayed up a little longer, despite the way he couldn't really keep his eyes open, and his body felt heavy with tiredness. Eventually, he crawled under the covers of his bed after showering and hiding the broken photograph in a box underneath his bed.

***

The morning came too quickly, bright beams coming in through the blinds, irritating Castiel's eyes. He simply turned his back to it, instead of getting out of bed like he probably should have.

Not long after, there was a soft knock on his door. Castiel didn't even bother to call for them to come in, or leave him alone, because he knew the person that was out there – Anna, obviously – would let herself in after exactly five second without an answer anyway.

“You're going today, right Cas? You have got to go, you can't miss the entire first week back in school. You promised me last year that you would stop skipping so much! I don't know what you're trying to accomplish here.”

Castiel groaned and pulled the blankets up over his head. “Leave me alone. I don't feel well,” he croaked out, voice still thick and rough with sleep.

Maybe changing schools was for the better anyway. Dean could move on, go on peacefully with his life now that he had his old, pre-Castiel life back. It was better that way, than having to watch Dean deal with the whole existential sexuality crisis one more time, or having to have Cas and his whiny, mopey self hanging around him like a lovesick puppy.

Sighing to himself, Castiel pulled the blankets down from his face. He hated how pathetic he felt, how conflicted he felt about the whole situation. How could he even possibly try to move on from Dean, get over him, when his entire world still circulated around him?

“I'll go, just give me five more minutes,” he mumbled eventually, rubbing a palm against his eyes before turning to Anna who was fully dressed already and was currently tilting his blinds to let more sunlight in, prompting a loud grunt of complaint from Castiel. “...And coffee,” he added quickly.

Fifteen minutes later and wearing a sweater that was put on inside out, Castiel was hurrying in through the school corridors. Being late wasn't exactly something he hated, but being on Anna's bad side was something else entirely. He grabbed his books from his locker, somehow managing to spill what was left of the now lukewarm coffee in his travel tumbler all over himself, leaving a big, wet stain on half of his sweater and legs (damn it), and then he rushed into the classroom of his first class. Everyone was staring, some with amused expressions on their stupid faces. Castiel mumbled an apology to the teacher before going to take a seat at the back of the classroom, somewhat relieved that he didn't have to sit somewhere near the front row.

When the first class of the morning was finally over, Balthazar and Inias appeared at Castiel's side and they all walked together to their lockers. Right, Balthazar... Castiel had completely forgotten about him and the date he had agreed on going on with him. Facing _that_ again was something he was not planning to do, so he simply walked with them quietly, worried that if he said anything, it would steer Balthazar's mind to the topic he was trying to avoid.

Inias pointed out that his sweater was inside out once they were at their little corner of the corridor. He pulled it off quickly and put it back on the right way, then thanked him for letting him know. Inias never really spoke much, but Castiel liked that about him. He was quiet, didn't judge, and was an overall good friend.

They made it through the next few hours of classes without mentioning Dean or, in Balthazar's case, the date, even once, much to Castiel's relief. It was their last year of high school, and he sure needed to stay focused on getting good grades so he could go off to college. But with Dean constantly haunting his mind and the school corridors, that was a lot easier said that done.

Before lunch, Castiel eventually mustered up the courage to apologize to Balthazar for his behavior the other day. Truth be told, Cas wasn't sure what he was really apologizing for, but it felt like something he needed to do, and it instantly brought a smile to Balthazar's lips, so he guessed he had done something right. Balthazar told him he thought Castiel had stayed home from school because of him, which was weird, but Castiel said he just hadn't felt well, when in reality it was because of Dean. He still didn't feel good about having to go on a date with Balthazar though, but left that stress and anxiety for later.

Maybe, just maybe, Balthazar's semi-creepy obsession with him could work as a temporary distraction and comfort until he found someone better (as if Castiel really believed there existed someone to ever measure up to Dean...), even though Castiel wasn't into Balth at all, maybe they could hang out as friends, or something.

When they walked into the cafeteria later, both Anna and Rachel grimaced at them, and Castiel instantly knew that his private life wasn't as private as he previously thought it had been.

He narrowed his eyes at the food on the tray in front of him as they sat down. Pizza. Castiel sighed and poked at the disgusting looking slice. It was like the universe was taunting him, probably laughing at him right now. All he could think about was last night at Dean's place, so he pushed the tray away, earning a sharp glare from his sister as he did so.

Castiel had some minor trouble eating after breaking up with Dean, and lost some weight over the summer, much to his family's and his own annoyance. It was not very surprising that Anna was disappointed in him for refusing to eat again, even though he told her that he'd had pizza for dinner last night and simply wasn't feeling like having it so soon again. She wasn't buying it, all of the warning signals were probably going off in her mind, putting one plus one together – Castiel spending time with Dean again, Castiel not eating.

Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel noticed Dean getting up from a few tables over, leaving the cafeteria, and after that he couldn't get the image of him leaving out of his head. A part of him wanted to follow him and rub his shoulder and maybe ask if anything was wrong. But that wasn't them any more. Everyone at Castiel's table could probably see how anxious he was feeling, how tense he was, in the way he chewed on the stale piece of pizza and pointedly avoided everyone's eyes.

School, a place that somehow had kind of become his escape when he first became friends with Dean, was now the cause of his worries. It was all his own fault, Castiel thought, his fault that Dean had broken up with him, because he probably wasn't a good enough boyfriend and he was too needy and put too much pressure on Dean and everything else that had led up to their fight that night. And that was probably why he he had made Dean go away forever.

 _“Don't flatter yourself,”_ Castiel could almost hear the echo of his old Dean say with a snort. Yeah, Dean would have wanted at least half the credit, and he would most definitely take all the blame if he could too.

“It's Friday tomorrow, Cassie,” Balthazar said, the words slipping out of his mouth in a slow, sly way that made Castiel's skin crawl. He still avoided his eyes. “You with me?” Balthazar asked, nudging his elbow into Castiel's ribs.

“Yes,” Castiel said, raising an eyebrow at him, “It's the end of the school week, so what? What do you want to ask me?” He wasn't in the mood for playing twenty questions.

“Apparently Pamela is throwing a party to celebrate the start of senior year.”

Pamela Barnes, a girl that was really a part of Dean's group of friends, usually held a party in her house about once a month when her parents were out of town. Castiel had only gone once before, with Dean. It was a small place with bad air conditioning and not enough places to sit. There had been alcohol, and cigarettes. It hadn't really been the most fun night of Castiel's life. He couldn't dance, and Dean had laughed when he tried. Which made Castiel happy, he liked seeing Dean laugh, even if it was sometimes on his own expense. Besides, he knew Dean never meant it in a mean way.

Castiel had left the party early, at least compared to everyone else. He'd felt kind of out place, not yet good enough friends with Dean's friends and the other people there. They had both been tipsy, Dean maybe a bit more so than Castiel. He had only really come to the party because Dean had been nagging him about it for a while, to meet his friends and hang out with them the way they used to. After a few months, it became one of those things the two of them often disagreed on; Dean wanted Castiel to come with him to his friend's places, to parties, or to just _be_ with him among his friends and people. It made Castiel slightly uncomfortable. It wasn't that he was not big on the PDA, he would just rather spend time with Dean alone, or in a calmer setting. Maybe it was just too much, being the new guy in town, not knowing anyone well enough to feel as comfortable around them as Dean did. Some times Castiel kind of felt like he was being introduced and shown off to people like some kid's shiny new toy. Not that Dean would _ever_ describe him like that. The thought itself gave Castiel a bad conscience.

But he knew them all better now, and they knew him. If Pamela was hosting a party, the chances of Dean being there were pretty big, and Castiel didn't want him to be all alone now that he was sort of in the same position Castiel had been in two years ago. Or maybe that was just an excuse to get to see him again, and have it count as a date with Balthazar. A kill two birds with one stone kind of thing.

“Pick me up at seven tomorrow,” Castiel said, and everyone at the table looked equally surprised.

***

Balthazar lived at the other side of town, a medium sized apartment where he was staying with his much older step-sister, Hester. Balthazar's parents moved around a lot, apparently the headquarters of the company they worked for was located in London, so they traveled back and forth a lot. Balthazar had once told Castiel that it was easier for him to move in with his sister, who was in her twenties and just graduated from college. It made his life less hectic when he stayed in once place at a time.

Castiel had been to the apartment many times before, Balthazar was one of the first people he got to know when his family moved into town about two years ago. It was Rachel, Anna's first friend at Lawrence High, who introduced them.

“Where's your sister?” Castiel asked when they arrived at the place on Friday night after Balth picked him up. They weren't going directly to the party, apparently it was better to arrive after a few hours, according to Balthazar anyway. They had decided to go to Balthazar's place instead of Castiel's, mostly because Castiel didn't want to be just a few houses away from Dean before they went to the party.

“She's working a double shift today and won't be home until eleven,” Balthazar's spoke into the refrigerator, eyes scanning the contents of it. “Are you hungry?”

Castiel shook his head before he realized that Balthazar couldn't see him. “No.”

“Good. Neither am I.”

It was a nice apartment, too nice, almost. It looked like it had been taken right out of one of those interior design magazines, and it was clear that Balthazar and Hester mostly lived off of their parents wealth, something he normally bragged about anyway. Here, he didn't have to.

When Balthazar grabbed Castiel's hand and pulled him down to sit on the couch, Castiel felt stiff in his body, rigid and worried he would dirty the cushions or something. It was the kind of apartment where only a marble statue would feel perfectly at home, standing still, cold, unable to touch or break anything.

Incidentally, that was also how Castiel felt when Balthazar stretched his arms out and put one around his shoulders, flicking on the television with the remote control in his other hand.

The cushions shifted with the weight of Balthazar as he leaned in closer to Castiel, ran his cold fingers through his hair and then his lips were on Castiel's neck, just as cold. Castiel sat still while Balthazar kissed over his neck, at least _trying_ to enjoy it for the short amount of time he would allow it to happen. But it really wasn't working. All Castiel could think about was Dean, and it felt like he was making a huge mistake.

“Do you want to watch a movie before we head out?” Balthazar asked, already turning on something from the DVR, his breath surprisingly hot against Castiel's cheek before he finally pulled away.

Yes, only Balthazar could live in a place like this. His eyes a cold, chilly blue that made Castiel shiver and freeze. The skin of his hands smooth like the surface of marble. It was the opposite of what Cas wanted.

“No, I don't,” Castiel said sternly and removed Balthazar's arm from around his shoulders.

Balthazar gave him a strange look. “Um, unless you've forgotten already, in which case I would be very offended, you agreed to go on a date with me.”

“I changed my mind.” Castiel got up and straightened out the sweater he was wearing, wiping the sleeve of it against his neck, as if he could rub off the mark he was sure Balthazar had left on him. “I'm leaving, since it seems like you aren't planning to take me to the party. I can show myself out.”

“Sure, Cassie,” Balthazar muttered, eyes glued to the TV. “See you in school on Monday.”

Not answering, Castiel glanced at his phone for the time as he hurried out of the apartment. It was close to eight already, and going to the party didn't seem like a good idea anymore. Not that he could find his way there from this side of the town anyway.

Right. He was on the wrong side of the town, and he didn't have his car. He would have to take the bus, or something, and hope nothing would happen on the way. Walking would take hours, and Castiel wasn't sure he could find the way back home even if he tried – not to mention it would be even less safe than taking the bus.

With his nose in his cell phone, Castiel walked quickly down the street towards the closest bus stop, trying to write a text message as he did. Then everything happened fast. Before Castiel had the time to look up, he crashed right into someone with a loud thud as he turned a corner, and his cell phone went flying, landing a few feet away with a nasty scraping sound.

Castiel sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes were glued to the feet in front of him. He knew those shoes. He definitely knew those legs and who they were attached to.

“ _Ouch_ , what the f–,” of all the people in the world Castiel could have run into, he really didn't except it to be Dean. But here he was, swearing and rubbing his cheekbone.

“Dean,” Castiel said, lips parted just slightly, the name coming out with a stunned breath. He barely dared to look up at him. How was this even possible, the odds of them literally running into each other here of all places, especially when Castiel had made a point to go to Balthazar's place on the other side of the town instead of his own house – only because it was farther away from Dean. Just his fucking luck.

Dean didn't say anything, his eyes shifted from Castiel and down to the ground where Castiel's cell phone had landed.

Castiel watched him as he walked over and grabbed it, wiped the sleeve of his jacket over the screen before turning it over in his hand, presumably to examine the damage.

“You shouldn't throw your phone around like this, these things are expensive,” Dean said with a playful tone to his voice as he held the phone out to Castiel who snatched it back quickly and looked it over himself before stuffing it into his jacket pocket.

“You walked into me,” Castiel replied defensively, narrowing his eyes and sticking out his chin.

Dean chuckled. “ _Technically_ , I just turned the corner. Maybe if you hadn't had your face stuck to that screen this wouldn't have happened.”

“Would you rather not have run into me?” Castiel countered and folded his arms over his chest.

They shared a few looks in silence before Dean finally shrugged, letting out a sigh of defeat.

“What are you doing here?” Dean asked instead, eyebrows furrowing together.

“I was visiting someone. What are _you_ doing here?” Castiel asked back, his own curiosity taking over.

Castiel caught the way Dean parted his lips just the slightest to speak, but then closed them again quickly. It seemed like he wasn't sure where to place his eyes, they kept flicking from Cas to the street.

“I uh, I went to see mom,” Dean's voice was weak when he finally managed to get the words out. “It's not far from here. I've had a lot on my mind. So I walked, trying to clear some of it out.”

“Oh.” Castiel should have known that was why Dean was in the neighborhood. Dean had brought him with him twice in the past to visit the cemetery where Mary was buried. The first time, Dean had been eager, excited almost, to introduce Castiel to his mother – which had been both a cute and bizarre experience. The second time, on her birthday, Dean had been so quiet. All Castiel could do then was hold his hand. But Castiel had been there once by himself too, shortly after Dean had broken up with him. First he had been both worried and hopeful that he would run into him there maybe, but the graveyard had been almost empty and filled with a serene quietness. He sat by Mary's grave for hours, tending to the flowers, talking to her headstone, wishing she would either answer or reach up through the earth and put him out of his misery.

“I see you had fun with whoever you were visiting, I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess it was that dude you let drool all over you at school,” Dean said, the words coming out bitter and dripping with disdain.

The world felt so small suddenly, as if it was slowly crawling in on Castiel, as if he had a window on his forehead into his mind and Dean could read all of his most private thoughts. Castiel's eyes darted around, and he clenched his jaw, ashamed.

“That's none of your business,” Castiel spat out, despite feeling like a fool. But who was Dean to judge him? He didn't even know him, and they weren't together anymore. Castiel was allowed to kiss or fool around with whoever he wanted it, whenever he wanted to, and Dean really had nothing to do with it.

Despite that, there was a part of Castiel that wished he had a sweater with a high neck, or something he could button up to cover the hickey or whatever that obviously gave him away. The guilt he felt over letting Balthazar do that to him piled up together with the rest of the bullshit he carried around.

“Jo's coming to pick me up soon, if you need a ride home?” The words spilled out of Dean's mouth fast and suddenly, almost tumbling over one another on the way out, kind of catching Castiel off guard as he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts and worries as usual.

“I don't know...,” Castiel muttered as he contemplated whether or not it was a good idea to subject himself to being close to Dean again. Twice in a week seemed a little like overkill, especially since he wasn't exactly planning on ripping up old wounds. He could almost already feel them tearing at the edges. Why had Dean reacted that way to seeing a hickey or something on his neck anyway? He wasn't jealous, was he? Castiel squirmed on the spot he was standing on, as he realized that maybe Dean wasn't jealous, maybe he was disgusted because Castiel had been with another boy. That thought easily outran his guilt, and hurt and anger filled Castiel's chest instead, making him clench his jaw as he bit out his reply. “I suppose that depends on how how comfortable you are with riding in the same car as me. Who knows, I might be contagious. Wouldn't want you to catch the cooties or something.”

Dean turned to him, a sharp and tense look in his eyes, piercing right through Castiel. “What the hell are you talking about?! You're accusing me of being....Cas, _me_? I probably used to suck you off for all I know.” Dean's voice tore through the night, reaching dangerous notes that bounced against the walls of the buildings surrounding them. The temperature had dropped several degrees since that afternoon. A light breeze sent a shiver through Castiel's body.

“No, Dean I don't–“ Castiel started, but stopped himself as he couldn't find the words to finish the sentence. He didn't know what to say. Memories of his and Dean's first kiss popped up into his mind. They had both been equally shocked and surprised when it had happened. Homophobic? No. Absolutely not. But being sixteen, hormonal, and having to all of a sudden come face to face with the facts and realization that you're in love with your best friend, and have been for a while, that ought to change some pretty fundamental things inside. Things had definitely not been simple between them for a while, and they hadn't continued on as if nothing had happened and they didn't get together right away. Love wasn't as simple as movies had made it out to be. It was damn complicated, and needed time to adjust and lots of thinking. Especially for Dean, Castiel knew that. Cas hadn't spent much time before he fell in love with Dean thinking about what kind of people he found attractive – he liked who he liked and that was it. Dean though, had only been with girls before Castiel, as far as he knew anyway.

“Look, fine. You don't have to accept the offer. I just thought asking would be the right thing to do, since I know for a fact you don't exactly live within walking distance from here.” Dean said with a tired huff and Castiel watched Dean as he shook his head and turn around, then sitting down on the cold, gravely sidewalk. “I get it if you don't wanna come with me. I dumped you and I don't even remember it or why and I was probably a horrible boyfriend to you. But I'm sorry about all that.”

With a sigh, Castiel stepped off the sidewalk and sat down next to Dean on the curb, folding his arms around himself, rubbing his arms, trying to fight against the chilly evening. “I could probably do it, but I would rather not walk home at this hour. I'll go with you,” he agreed eventually. Then, with a small smile, he turned to look at Dean. “You weren't a horrible boyfriend, Dean,” he said and pulled his knees up against his chest, eyes trailing the lines of Dean's mouth, then dropped to the ground where tiny stones scattered around their shoes, coming flying from the tires of passing cars. Castiel swallowed, taking a deep breath. “You were the best.”

Beside every other passing car, and some birds up way past their bedtime, the evening was quiet. Dean didn't say anything, he only grabbed a small stone and flicked it away before pulling off his jacket as Castiel watched in confusion. It was a nice evening, not particularly cold, but Dean draped the jacket over Castiel's shoulders anyway before looking away quickly.

“Dean you don't have to–“ Castiel tried to protest, but let the jacket engulf him anyway.

“You looked cold,” Dean muttered under his breath, scratching his neck absentmindedly.

Castiel narrowed his eyes at him, at the slight tint of red that covered Dean's neck, but pulled his eyes away before he started wondering whether his skin carried the color because of the blunt force of his nails from the scratching, or something else, like blushing.

The leather jacket was heavy on his shoulders, it carried more than just the weight of the fabric. Castiel wanted to hate how it felt on him. It still held Dean's body heat, and his smell. Castiel's stomach churned, he wanted the ground to open up a hole beneath him and swallow him whole. It felt like Dean was trying to hurt him on purpose, even though Cas knew that he wasn't, not really. Dean couldn't remember, and he probably didn't think much of his small, seemingly friendly gesture.

They both sat in silence until the car finally showed up, and Castiel had to fight the urge to run away.

“I would really appreciate it if you could notify me beforehand the next time you feel like wandering around half the city without a plan on how to get yourself home,” Jo said as she practically stormed out of the car, slamming the door shut.

Castiel's eyes widened when Jo's hand locked around his wrist and she yanked him up without warning, shortly followed by doing the same thing to Dean.

“Get in the car, backseat,” she ordered, pointing to the door with her whole arm, scarily reminiscent of her mother. “Should've known you two would be hanging around, always up to no good, causing trouble.” Jo stuck her chin out, eyeing them both suspiciously with her hands on her hips.

“We weren't hanging around...” Castiel said, the mere idea of her thinking that they had been together all evening made him uncomfortable for some reason.

“Whatever. _Backseat_ , I was just about to catch up on _The Bachelor_ when you called, popcorn ready and everything. I don't even want to have you in my periphery right now.”

Quickly, Castiel peeled off Dean's jacket and handed it to him in passing-by before pulling open the door to the backseat and they both climbed into the car without any protest. Castiel scooted over to the other side of the backseat, careful not to interrupt Dean's personal space.

The world flashed by in bright, light colors outside the window as the car traveled through the city. Castiel closed his eyes and let this thoughts run free as the gentle rumble of the engine lulled him half to sleep.

He wasn't sure what to think anymore, he was so conflicted. Did Dean like him or not? Was he interested in getting to know him from the start again, hear the stories of how they spent the last two years together? The most important question though, was if Castiel was prepared to go through all of it. Could he live with the fact that Dean might not give a fuck about him anymore? Could he just go on with his life, never get to banter or argue with Dean again, wake up next to him or... No, the feelings that riled up inside of Castiel at the thought of losing Dean made things pretty clear.

When Castiel opened his eyes again he had to blink to adjust to the lights, and when everything was no longer blurry, he noticed they were back on their street and driving up towards his house.

“Thanks for the ride,” Castiel mumbled when the car pulled up next to his house, giving Jo a smile as their eyes locked in the rear view mirror, and then slid out of the car quickly.

That night, sleep did not come easily for Castiel, something he had gotten used to over the past months. He fought the urge to go downstairs and ask his mother for something to help him sleep, and battled with the thoughts that rummaged through his mind, all of them of course focusing on Dean. Dean, who was probably only being friendly for Cas' sake, to help him through the loss of his friend and partner. But by doing so, Dean only made it harder for him. Couldn't Dean just ignore him? Pretend that he didn't exist? Perhaps if Dean started being angry with him, Castiel could get over him easier? At least that's what Cas told himself. So what if he tried to provoke Dean, tried to push him away on purpose, it would probably save both of them a lot of pain and trouble.

Once sleep embraced Castiel, he dreamed of being back on the couch in Balthazar's apartment. Only Balthazar's face wasn't right. It kept morphing into Dean, Dean who was repeating over and over again that he didn't exist, and that he would never talk to Cas.

Castiel woke with a jolt, sweat dripping from his face, his t-shirt clinging to his chest and back when he turned over, staring at the awful little digits on his alarm clock. The only good thing about waking up that early on a Saturday – besides getting to leave the nightmare behind – was that he wouldn't have to meet Dean at school.

***

As the afternoon rolled around, Castiel was slumped down in the couch in their downstairs living room, not really even watching whatever reality show was having a marathon re-run on the television.

Suddenly a phone fell into Cas' lap, causing him to jump slightly in shock, and a second later Anna plopped down next to him, grabbing her cell phone from from his lap and practically pressing the screen of it up against Castiel's face.

“Read this, loser,” Anna said with a laugh, moving the phone from side to side.

“I'm unable to read anything at all if you're gonna hold it that close to me, you know,” Castiel grumbled and grabbed a hold of the phone to see whatever it was his sister wanted him to read.

A text message from one of their mutual friends – well, more of Anna's friend really – covered up most of the screen. It was long, and Castiel could almost feel a migraine starting at the center of his skull.

_'Hi if you want to you should come by tonight. My parents are spending the weekend in Nashville for some stupid country show so I have the place to myself. I already asked Jo, Bela and some of the others. Cas can come too. Bring snacks, if you can. Oh and btw that group thing we have in school–'_

With a sigh, Castiel pulled his eyes from the screen and handed the phone back to Anna, who looked at him with raised eyebrows. Cas could almost hear the question that was hanging from her lips.

Though when no answer came, Anna reached out and shoved her brother gently. “Well?”

“I don't feel like going out again after last night,” he answered her eventually, sighing again and folding his arms over his chest. Yesterday had been enough drama for the entire weekend. All he wanted was to stay home, let the comfortable cushions of the couch engulf him, and watch a crappy movie.

“Aw come on! Don't be like that. Besides, Balthazar probably won't even be there–“

“Oh I thought you just showed me a party invitation?” Castiel narrowed his eyes at Anna.

“Yes, I did but–“

“Then he'll be there. He goes to all the parties, even the ones he's not invited to. Someone always tells him.”

For all Cas knew, Balthazar probably had some kind of radar built into his very being, a party-detector, or something. Because honestly, Cas had no idea how but Balthazar always managed to find all the parties, and then he spent the entire Monday after the weekend blabbering all about it. For some reason, if he had been somewhere Dean had been too, he always made sure to mention it to Castiel that Dean had behaved like a Good Boyfriend and whatnot. Which Castiel frankly found kind of offensive. He trusted Dean completely, and he absolutely did not need Balthazar to keep an eye out for him for anything suspicious. Plus, if anything _did_ happen, Castiel would rather hear it directly from Dean than from Balthazar, who – to be honest – would probably try use it to manipulate Castiel's emotions about Dean anyway.

Relentless as she was, Anna didn't give up without a fight. She turned the TV off and then turned to Castiel, grabbing both of his wrists in her soft hands, forcing him to look at her.

“Well then I'll tell him off,” she said with so much determination that Castiel honestly believed that she might even remove Balthazar physically at sight, if it came to it. “You deserve distraction, real distraction. And fun. We both should have fun, alright? No more sadness.” Anna let go of Castiel's arms and pulled him into a hug, resting her head on his shoulders. They could stay like that for a long time, they used to always fall asleep next to each other when they were little, and there was something about being so close to his sister that made Castiel relax. Maybe it was the fierce calmness that always seemed to surround Anna, or maybe it was the fact that she was the only one who had always been by his side forever, since the very beginning of things.

Suddenly Anna pulled back, waving her finger angrily to a spot above Castiel's head.

“You hear that, asshole?!” She barked, scrunching up her face in feigned anger. “For one night, even if it means I will physically have to hold up a real umbrella, you will _not_ rain on us today. Go away, dissolve, or something!”

A while after the breakup when it became more clear to the rest of Castiel's family that he had slipped into a depression, Anna began referring to it as a cloud. Apparently she had read somewhere that separating the illness from Castiel as a person would make it easier to talk about and fight against. Castiel wasn't sure he agreed, but he appreciated the effort and found it kind of endearing. They both found it kind of silly, but it usually made Castiel smile, so at least it was something.

“Anna,” Castiel mumbled and glanced at his sister.

“I'm sorry, that was stupid. You don't have to go, I just thought it would be fun,” Anna said way too quickly for Castiel to be able to get a word in.

“It wasn't stupid,” Castiel placed a hand on her shoulder, smiling widely. “And alright. I'll go.”

Surely, this was something he would end up regretting, like with most things lately.


	3. Muscle Memory

The music coming from inside the fancy house was audible even from the street as Bela pulled up her silver Mercedes onto the driveway. This wasn't exactly a rich part of the city, but it was as fancy as it could get in a family neighborhood in Lawrence, Kansas.

In the backseat, Castiel dug his hands further into the soft pockets of the dark hoodie he was wearing, feeling like he would much rather stay in the car for the rest of the night while his sister and her friends got drunk and made stupid mistakes, but Anna would never allow him to do that, and he had made her a promise to go and to try to have fun, if not for himself then for Anna's sake.

Someone must have seen them pull up, because as they approached the house, the front door was swung opened and Portia James emerged with drinks in her hands and a big, bright smile that lit up her entire face. At least up until a large Doberman sneaked out next to her legs and started jumping around on the patch of grass outside.

“Frampton!” Portia called, handing the drinks over to Bela and Anna as they walked up to her, and tried to welcome them to the house at the same time as she tried to get her dog to come back inside.

The dog seemed oblivious to her commands, rolling around on the damp grass, tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth as he looked at the newly arrived humans.

For some reason, Castiel found himself walking over towards the dog, drawn in by his big, kind brown eyes. He would much rather take the dog out for a walk in the chilly evening air than go inside which was basically just the same as asking for a migraine.

“Hello,” Castiel mumbled as he squatted down next to the dog, holding out the back of his hand for him to sniff. The dog's nose was cold and a little wet when it bumped against his skin as it scented him.

“He's supposed to be upstairs, I have no idea how he managed to get over the gate, unless–“ It took Castiel a moment to realize that Portia was talking to him, and not his sister or Bela. Apparently they had already disappeared inside the house. That much for spending the night together.

Frampton the dog immediately put the side of his soft, warm face in Castiel's hand when he turned it over, and Castiel wondered for a moment if it would be weird to ask if he could take him for a walk. He had always wanted a pet, but his family had always used the excuse that his mother was allergic – something Cas hardly believed to be true. He was convinced the real reason was that his parents found animals messy and stinky or something, or that it would require too much effort or time or money or something else they already had too much of but wouldn't feel comfortable wasting on a pet.

“I have to get back in. Castiel, help me get him inside, would you?” Portia asked, or more like demanded, her hand already on the doorknob, but she delivered the sentence in such a compelling way that it made Castiel want to do as she said. She had that kind of aura around her; dominant, yet in a sweet and kind way. It reminded Castiel of when he was little and his mother asked him to do chores and then rewarded him with cookies and milk.

“Of course,” Castiel said and stood up again, giving the dog a pat on the head before gently slipping his fingers in under Frampton's collar. “Come here, friend.”  
“Thank you,” Portia said once Castiel and Frampton reached the stairs up to the house. “And welcome! I'm glad Anna and you could make it.”

Looking inside the spacious hallway, it was obvious that Anna was nowhere close – not what Castiel could see anyway. It annoyed him. She normally didn't just abandon him like this, not without letting him know beforehand in an attempt to try to teach him a lesson or something, anyway.

“You don't happen to know where Anna went?” Castiel asked and let go of Frampton's collar as Portia took it over from there.

“No, I don't. I think she and Bela went to the kitchen. I could look for them for you if you want, and bring you a drink. I just have to get this silly boy upstairs first.” Portia shook her head at the dog who was standing obediently next to her, looking awfully proud of his temporary escapade, tongue still hanging out of the side of his mouth in a goofy looking way.

“That's not necessary, but thank you.” Castiel said and tried to give her a smile, but he was sure the corners of his lips didn't reach very far, and his face felt stiff and awkward.

He watched Portia take the dog upstairs, and again wished he could follow to the second floor and keep the dog company for the rest of the night. Maybe even take a nap.

The house was warm and full of people whose faces Castiel couldn't remember having ever seen before. Some of them looked older – maybe college age, but most of them were probably just from another school. The house was warm and colorful, wooden floors dressed in gorgeous, expensive looking carpets, heavy, oriental ornament mirrors in different sizes and shapes lined the wall in the hallway that led to the kitchen. It would have looked like a fun house or something in any other house, but here it fit perfectly. It almost reminded Castiel of Balthazar's home, except this didn't carry the same cold and uptight atmosphere. It definitely had the same expensive feel to it, but it was much more welcoming and homely. Castiel didn't know much about Portia James, she was closer friends with Bela than Anna, so he didn't see her that often. She was tall and beautiful, and if he had to describe her with just one word it would be _elegant_. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was pretty sure he had heard someone mention that her parents – or at least her father – had a high position in a company, CEO or VP or something of the like. It wouldn't surprise him, from the look of the house, it was clear that the family had no problems with money.

After glancing into a few different rooms on his way through the corridor, one which seemed to be a library with leather sofas and bookshelves that reached all the way from the floor to the ceiling, and the other a dining room with a spectacular chandelier, Castiel eventually reached the end of it and stepped into the kitchen.

Just as he had set his foot inside the door frame, Anna appeared out of nowhere in front of him, causing him to take a small step back.

“There you are! What took you so long?” Anna asked him, grabbing his shoulder when he moved back as if to ground him and keep him from getting scared or something.

“I... uh, the dog–“ Castiel said somewhat bewildered, his eyes flitting to a spot over his shoulder, trying to gesture towards the door and the dog escaping earlier, which his sister had been there to witness.

Anna moved her hands from Castiel's shoulders to his wrists, moving closer to him and looked at him with big eyes that made Castiel's chest churn slightly. She had that serious look in her eye and he knew she was about to say something that could be either bad or worse, and she wanted him to stay calm.

“So, I have news...” she began with a small shrug of her shoulders.

Castiel squirmed slightly. “Good news or bad news?”

“I guess that depends,” Anna sighed, then flipped her head quickly to move a strand of her hair back over her shoulders. “You were right. Balthazar is here.”

It took all of Castiel's self-control to keep from rolling his eyes and tell her _I told you so!_ but he didn't want to start a petty sibling argument over that right now.

“And I'm not entirely sure, but I think I saw Dean–“

“Dean is here?”

Now that, that was worse, and Castiel pulled his hands from his sister's.

The only reason he didn't want to go in the first place was because he wanted to avoid anything similar from the night before to happen again. Accidentally bumping into Dean wasn't exactly something Castiel wanted to risk tonight. Especially not if Dean would be drinking and maybe chatting up some girls. _No._

“I said I'm not sure,” Anna grabbed his hands again, insistent. “I wanted to tell you, instead of having you find out on your own later. Come on, let's get you something to drink, okay?”

The kitchen was surprisingly empty compared to the rest of the house, only a few people were occupying it, leaning against the kitchen island in the middle of the room or sitting by the small table, talking with each other and laughing loudly. It felt a lot calmer than the partying Castiel had seen going on in other rooms in the house. Maybe it was because people in here didn't seem as focused on getting shitfaced drunk.

Anna grabbed him a beer, and pulled him along to a corner where Bela and some of their other friends from school were stood, passing a bag of chips around between them. It wasn't too bad, Anna was good at socializing with people and she always made sure Castiel got to take part in conversations as well, and it wasn't that difficult at all when most of the people they were talking with was their usual group of friends. Not long after, Portia entered the kitchen, carrying a tray full of glasses of shots.

“Oh, good, you found them,” Portia said and gave Castiel a warm smile as she placed the tray on the kitchen island and everyone grabbed one or two tiny glasses each and downed them quickly.

Contrary to his stature, Castiel could drink quite a lot before it had any visible effect on him. Dean used to joke about how he probably had a superpower, like rapid cell regeneration or something like a character on a TV show called _Heroes_ he had watched. Castiel didn't know because he hadn't seen the show.

Though lately, after spending the summer being an absolute emotional wreck, Castiel was feeling more human than ever, and as the evening went on, and more drinks were served to him, the effects the alcohol had on him was getting more and more prominent. Castiel hadn't even been bothered when Balthazar joined them and made a surly remark about how their inevitable meeting came sooner than both of them had anticipated. Whatever. At least Balthazar didn't seem upset or angry, which Castiel was thankful for. Although he wasn't the least interested in him romantically, he still valued his friendship a lot and liked him as a person. Most of the time, anyway.

In search of a more comfortable place to hang out, they all migrated from the kitchen and ended up in the basement living room. The air down there was slightly thicker, and harder to breathe, making Castiel's shirt cling to his chest. It smelled faintly of pot, and it was all beginning to give him a headache.

Castiel watched as Bela sat down on Portia's lap and Portia immediately wrapped her arms around Bela's waist. Castiel didn't think much of it at first, girls were usually a lot closer with each other and more comfortable with being physical. But then Portia moved Bela's hair to one side and kissed her neck and they both seemed oblivious to having an audience, or maybe they just didn't care, and Cas suspected that they weren't just close friends.

“Are they...?” he asked quietly, leaning towards his sister.

Anna raised her eyebrows at him, shrugging her shoulders a little. “It looks like it. I know Bela's been into her for a while but I wasn't sure because she had that fling with Jake Talley – you know that arrogant douchebag I told you all about – but they look cute together, don't they?”

They did look cute together, but seeing them made Castiel's chest ache for something similar, and Dean's stupid face popped into his mind again to annoy him. He thought he saw Dean in the sea of people an hour or so later, and Castiel felt his broken heart try to flutter in his chest, but it hurt.

“Are we okay?” Balthazar asked him later, bringing up things Castiel would really rather not think about.

“I suppose,” Castiel replied flatly.

“Hester is giving me a lift home soon, you could come if you want. Strictly platonically speaking. I know you don't want anything to do with me.”

Anna was staying over at Portia's, together with Bela and most of their other friends. But Castiel wasn't so sure he wanted to stay too. Going home with Balthazar sounded even worse, though he felt guilty and was willing to work things out between them to try to keep their friendship alive.

“Strictly platonic,” Castiel agreed.

The floor seemed to be in hills and valleys, and his legs were unreliable at this point. It wasn't a nice feeling, Castiel worried he would bump into Dean again, he didn't like being around Dean when he was upset at him and drunk, he didn't trust himself – not that he normally trusted himself around Dean.

“Are you sure about going back there so soon?” Anna asked with concern in her voice when Castiel found her and told her about going back with Balthazar and spending the night at his place. 

“It will be fine,” Castiel assured her, “His sister will be home.”

“Okay then. Promise to let me know if anything goes sideways?”

“Of course, I promise.”

Then Balthazar appeared, reaching to grab Castiel's arm but stopping himself halfway when he noticed the death glare Anna was giving him.

“Hester is waiting outside,” Balthazar mumbled, eyes flitting between Castiel and Anna. “Unless you've changed your mind,” he added quickly.

“I'll be outside in a moment.” Castiel turned to Anna, putting a hand to her upper arm and giving it a squeeze. “I will be fine, Anna. You worry too much.”

“Well someone has to, silly. Be careful. Call me tomorrow.”

Castiel gave her a nod and then turned to exit the house, walking a little faster as the rooms began to spin around him, faster and faster with every step he took towards the front door. And what was up with the floor? Why wasn't it flat and stable, why did it keep moving underneath his feet? Castiel swayed slightly and instantly reached his hand out to steady himself against a wall to keep from losing balance. Suddenly his heart was beating so hard, so fast, and he could barely hear his own thoughts over the buzz and beats from the music and people. His eyes stung and he felt tired, his muscles heavy and aching, everything was difficult in that moment but Castiel pushed through and managed to get outside finally, the cold, fresh air welcoming.

Balthazar's older sister Hester was leaning against the side of her car, and she helped Castiel into the backseat, the drunkenness having hit him so suddenly and horribly. She buckled him in and handed him a plastic bag in case he got sick. Castiel had never felt so embarrassed in his life. He tried to block both her and Balthazar out of his mind for the moment, only focused on keeping his stomach's contents in. Maybe he had been drinking a little too much, but what could he say? Dean was difficult to get out of his mind. Not even the copious amounts of alcohol that Castiel had consumed throughout the evening was enough to block him out completely, his face and voice flashing up inside his mind. Had Dean seen him at the party? Was he even there? What if he had seen Cas when he tried to get outside, drunk and foolish. _Ugh._

Everyone was quiet on the car ride back to the apartment – which Castiel was very thankful for, because he was beginning to feel really sick. He almost didn't bother to undress before he collapsed on the mattress laid out on the floor next to Balthazar's bed and crashed completely, inviting sleep with open arms as it took him over.

When Castiel woke up in the morning, the night before was a long, endless blur of flashing images and his head was _killing_ him. His stomach churned and turned inside of his body, twisting and jumping and forcing Castiel to get up and rush towards the bathroom to throw up, the pounding in the back of his head only easing a little.

After washing his mouth and face extensively, Castiel grabbed the toothbrush sitting next to the sink, wrapped in plastic and labeled _Guest_. He pulled it open and brushed his teeth, finally returning to Balthazar's room with a big glass of water.

“Good morning,” Balthazar chimed, and Castiel resisted the urge to throw the entire contents of the glass all over his stupid fucking face. He didn't even answer him, only narrowed his eyes at him and drank his water. Castiel couldn't wait to get out of there and go home and change into sweats.

Luckily, before Balthazar could say something else that might annoy Castiel to the point of losing control of himself, his phone buzzed. If only he could find his phone. The sound was coming from somewhere – somewhere hidden – the buzz was muffled, kind of as if something was placed over it. Castiel pulled the blankets away, eventually finding his discarded jeans and dug into the pockets of them, fishing out his phone. It was from Anna. That alone almost made Castiel put it back down, but something in his gut told him to open the message and read it.

_'I don't know what happened but Dean is in the hospital. Sam just called Jo. She's on her way over to Lawrence Memorial right now. Thought you might want to know. Please don't do anything stupid.'_

Castiel jumped to his feet, almost knocking the glass of water over, pulling on his pants and dressing faster than he ever had in his life. Balthazar made an annoyed sound.

“Dean's in the hospital,” Castiel explained, downing as much he could of the water.

“What did that bloody moron do now?” Balthazar groaned, obviously frustrated with anything and everything that had to do with Dean Winchester.

Castiel turned around sharply and stared at him. As nice as Balthazar usually was, he could also be a goddamn idiot sometimes. “Shut up! Don't speak of him like that,” he snapped and picked his phone up again and dialed Anna's number, asking her to see if someone could pick him up and take him to the hospital when she answered the call.

Anna didn't actually know anything else other than that Dean was at the hospital. Jo hadn't called or texted her back, but Anna convinced Castiel that that was probably because she was busy being with Dean or couldn't use her phone at the hospital or something, and that he shouldn't worry for nothing. Castiel had no idea what to expect. He sat silently in the passenger seat of the car that he shared with his sister, and kept his hands folded in his lap. Nothing this bad had happened when he and Dean were together, Dean had never been in the hospital – not that Castiel knew anyway – and neither had Castiel. It made him think about the mysterious accident that Dean refused to talk about when they were together, the one he now knew was a car accident that had robbed Dean of his memories. Castiel wondered what had happened, both in the accident and now, or yesterday, or whenever Dean had been taken to the hopsital. Had he gotten into a fight? Maybe he drank too much and tried to drive himself home? Or the worst possible scenario – Castiel's stomach was in knots; Dean might have hurt himself.

Castiel was an anxious mess when Anna dropped him off at the hospital, or maybe most of it was the hangover. Either way, he still felt like shit. He went to the reception, prepared to pretend he was Dean's cousin or something, but apparently someone had already let the nurses know that Cas was welcome to visit Dean, so getting Dean's floor and room number went more smoothly than Castiel had expected.

Still, for some reason, Castiel hoped Dean wouldn't get upset that he came by to check on him. Maybe it was inappropriate, seeing as they weren't even really friends yet or anything, but fuck that. It didn't matter if Dean didn't remember, because he was still Castiel's best friend – or had been at least, and Castiel still cared tremendously about him.

He stopped when he reached the right floor, then started walking down a long hallway, lit up in a plastic, translucent light that made his eyes hurt again. He knew he had reached the right place, because Jo and Sam were sitting in a couch reading magazines outside.

“Hey, Cas,” Sam said, looking up from the magazine.

Castiel looked at him and blinked, not sure what to say. He only wanted to see Dean.

“Is- is he...?” was the only thing Castiel managed to get out, glancing from Sam towards the door with Dean's name and number scribbled on a sign. The blinds were pulled down. That worried him.

“Dean is okay. I think he's asleep, but you can go in.”

Castiel nodded, hand shaking slightly as he hesitated before pushing down the handle and walked inside quietly to sit down in a chair pulled up close to the bed. Dean didn't look injured, at least not from what Castiel could see, only peacefully asleep. Good, that was a relief. He sighed as he held back a yawn, leaning back in the chair. He didn't mind waiting for Dean to wake up. It would be rude of him to try to shake him out of his slumber, not to mention selfish. He needed some rest for himself anyway, his head was still thundering and he still felt like he could throw up his entire guts and more.

When Dean finally did stir and slowly started waking up, Castiel turned his attention back to him. He was worried, of course, he still didn't know the reason as to why Dean was lying in a hospital bed to begin with.

“Are you alright?” was the first thing that slipped out of Castiel's mouth, and he leaned forward in the chair, closer to the bedside. He probably should have said hello, or introduced himself or something, but he couldn't help it, he really needed to know.

“I'm alive,” Dean grunted, lifting what looked like a heavy hand up to rub it into his eyes. He grimaced at the tube in the back of it as he moved his arm down again.

They were both quiet for a moment, Castiel was about to ask Dean to tell him what had happened the night before, when Dean's eyes suddenly grew wide and looked almost hollow, and he was completely unresponsive for at least a couple of seconds before he slowly turned his head to face Castiel, shaking it slightly as if to rid himself of something. Castiel could have sworn that it looked like Dean was remembering something, though he didn't dare to think it was anything other than flashes from whatever had happened the night before.

“Dean are you sure you're alright?” Castiel asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

Dean nodded. “Fine,” he muttered, but his eyes seemed to drift across the room for a moment before he opened his mouth again, voice a little hesitant. “Cas have we ever... Uh, did we ever spend time in a cabin, or something?”

Castiel blinked, and his heart dropped into a slow, heavy kind of beat inside of his chest as Dean talked.. His mouth fell open, but no words – not even a sound, came out of it.

Eventually, Castiel cleared his throat, the frown on his face more intense than before.

“No,” Cas said under his breath and leaned forward in his chair, intrigued, and kind of scared. “Not in a cabin. A shed in my backyard. It was a tight fit and strange at first, but we liked it,” he mumbled carefully, feeling some sort of panic or something stressful rising up within him.

“Oh that's what we used to call it?” Dean asked in a playful manner, eyebrows high and wiggling slightly, a goofy grin on his face and his cheeks tinted a light pink.

“ _What?_ ” It took Castiel a moment to catch the joke, then he shoved Dean's arm. “ _No_ , you pervert.”

“Sorry, man. Didn't know you were such a prude.” Dean was still chuckling. He probably thought he was being clever, or funny or something. The idiot.

“I'm not,” Castiel said defensively, clearly not seeing the humor in making jokes while Dean was in the hospital.

“Sure you're not.” Dean said, still grinning.

Castiel was beginning to believe that there had to be something else to that stupid smile on his face. Typical Dean to joke whenever something serious was happening.

“ _Anyway_ , why – Dean did you remember something?” As soon as he had dared to voice the question, Castiel kept his mouth shut, holding his breath.

Meanwhile, Dean was exhaling, letting out a long and slow sigh, the smile on his face still visible in the way the corner of his mouth was curled upwards, and the small crinkles near his eyes.

“Yeah, I think so, maybe,” Dean said with a proud nod. “It was only for a second but it was like I was there, in the shed with you,” he shook his head as he told Cas about the memory, as if he couldn't believe it had actually happened. “You know, I might go crazy and lose my mind, but I did it, I actually remembered. That stuff, from those years, it was supposed to be gone.”

Castiel wasn't sure if this was really happening, because it was so absurd and the entire situation felt surrealistic. It was much more likely that he was still passed out on the mattress in Balthazar's room, having an alcohol induced hangover dream that was really, very vivid and realistic. Because Dean possibly remembering? That was too good to be true. Things like that didn't happen to people like them. They were destined to be miserable forever. But still, if there as a chance that teeny tiny little fragments of the past two years were slowly coming back to Dean – Cas would take it, he would take everything he could get and be grateful for it. Not because he was selfish, but because he remembered a Dean who grew so much as a person, and he was happy in between the negative, and Dean deserved to remember.

“ _Dean,_ ” Castiel felt his heart attempt to almost leap out of his chest and his eyes widened, he scooted the chair closer, ignoring the sharp pain in his head that hadn't faded yet from the hangover.

“Yeah well don't get too excited. Just 'cause this came back, doesn't mean the rest will come flying. And if they do, it ain't gonna be without consequence or anything. Just sayin'.”

“But it's _possible!_ It must all be stowed away in there somewhere, unless aliens abducted you and switched your body for two whole years, but I seriously doubt that,” Castiel said, smiling widely now as well and Dean laughed. Castiel couldn't even put it in words how hopeful it made him that Dean might remember one day.

For a moment, they just sat there, looking at each other.

Then one of the machines that Dean was hooked up to let out a strange beeping sound, which Dean brushed off as nothing serious, but it still made Castiel sit up straighter as he collected himself and landed slightly, pushing the excited feelings away for later.

“Why are you in here, by the way?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at the machine, deciding it was his enemy, just in case.

“Well, uh,... I was at that party last night. I know you were there because Jo told me, but I didn't see you. Anyway I left kinda early, and apparently Jo thought I acted weird or something and like with most things these days; I don't remember much of what happened but I passed out and they took me to the ER and here I am,” Dean said, eyes skimming around the room, his hands busying themselves with a corner of the blanket that was covering him up to his waist.

Castiel rolled his eyes a little and groaned at Dean's retelling of what had happened to him the night before, but there was still the faint traces of a smile on his lips. He wasn't surprised. Dean had partied a lot when they were together, despite being underage at the time, and Castiel had picked him up numerous of times. Dean had never been _this_ bad though, enough so that he would end up in the hospital, and Castiel had a nagging feeling that maybe it was his fault somehow that Dean had lost control of himself.

Dean must have noticed the stress reflected on Castiel's face because he chuckled and turned his attention to him, looking right into his eyes.

“It's fine though, I'm fine. I'll be outta here in a couple of days.”

“A few days?” Castiel asked, grimacing. He'd never heard of that before. “That's strange, can they afford to hold you for that long in this economy? Huh.” And more importantly, could Dean's family afford to have him in the hospital for that long? Maybe he had insurance or something that covered it? Either way, it didn't exactly help Castiel to calm down. “You're... You're not hurt internally or something, are you?” Castiel asked quietly, worry slipping through his voice. That would explain why they were keeping him for so long. “Gabriel – my brother – got alcohol poisoning once. They only had to keep him overnight after they stomach pumped him to keep track of his vital signs. What are they keeping you for, Dean?” he murmured, a crinkle appearing between his eyebrows as he frowned hard.

Dean was silent, eyes refusing to meet Castiel's again. Something tugged inside of Cas at the sight of Dean looking so worried and vulnerable. He hesitated, then leaned forward out of the chair he was sitting in again, and reached a hand out to stroke Dean's cheek slowly for only a brief moment. Dean had always responded better to physical contact, even if Dean had a hard time to admit that himself.

Embarrassed, Castiel sat back, cleared his throat and ignored the way his cheeks once again felt hot. He didn't mind touching Dean, it was the fact that Dean might mind being touched. It was a struggle that he had to remind himself that Dean didn't technically know him, and with his memories possibly slowly coming back, Castiel should take it slow, not rush forward into the unknown.

Castiel scratched his neck. He shouldn't have done that, shouldn't have touched Dean, what if it only put him off and made him pull back further into his shell or something? He really had to learn how to keep his distance and stop being such a weirdo.

“I dunno,” Dean said with a shrug and looked at Castiel.

At least that was something. Dean didn't seem to hate him. Not yet, anyway.

Suddenly fingers where nudging his arm, and Castiel snapped his eyes up from his shoes to find Dean giving him an intense look.

“Hey, don't worry about me. I'm sure you've got plenty of things on your plate right now. It's probably just the liver or something. I'll be okay.”

“The liver?” Castiel asked confusedly and chewed on the inside of his lip. Honestly, he couldn't tell if Dean was just bullshitting. Maybe he wanted to be pitied or felt sorry for, or maybe he just wanted to make Castiel feel worried and anxious and upset on his behalf – maybe it was some kind of payback for something.

Castiel shook his head. “But Dean, that would require years of –“ he stopped himself mid-sentence. Dean had, for all he knew, been drinking for most of his teenage years. Cas was pretty sure he had mentioned something about being handed his first beer when he 'wasn't even double digits', which would say quite a lot about why he was in the condition he was now. Deciding not to mention it further, Castiel never continued his sentence, because if he knew Dean as well as he thought that he did, he was certain that Dean was worrying about similar things right now, even if he wasn't going to admit it to Cas, and he probably didn't need Cas to voice his paranoia out loud too.

“Heard you left with Balthazar last night,” Dean said and broke the silence, as smoothly as slicing through ice with a blunt axe. “I assume you two are a thing now, huh?” Dean's eyes were narrowed, curious and studying when Castiel met them. “You should probably get back to him instead of wasting your worries on me. Don't wanna get on his bad side, right?”

How could Dean go from being so kind and calm to bringing up that crap again? Castiel's expression changed in an instant, his face dropping, as did his heart. Not only was it the worst timing ever, but it had sounded deliberate too, as if Dean wanted to change the subject and maybe try to hurt him. _Why would he hurt him?_ The change was too sudden, and Castiel kind of wanted to throw up. Whether that was because of the amount of alcohol he had been drinking the night before, or because of Dean's change in attitude, he wasn't sure, and honestly it didn't really matter. All of his hope had crumbled in a split second. Of course Dean wouldn't be interested only because he regained a small, pointless memory. Not even if Dean somehow regained all of his memories sometime, did that mean that Dean would want to be with Castiel again. He would still be broken up with Cas, and if he had his memories, he would _definitely_ know why they weren't together, instead of keeping up this sweet act that Dean had been doing for the past week or so.

“I told you before, Balthazar is _not_ my boyfriend! I spent the _entire summer_ being broken up over you, did you think I came over here because I think it's fun to spend time with you?! You have no right to to try to guilt trip me, Dean, you lost all rights to anything even remotely concerning me when you ended it.”

Castiel couldn't just sit there anymore, he was furious right now, Dean wasn't being fair. Without looking back, Castiel got up from the chair and walked with big steps towards the door of the room, but then stopped himself as he put his hand on the doorknob, and turned around.

In the hospital bed, Dean was frowning at him, but he still hadn't said anything, which wasn't like him.

With his shoulders pushed back, and his lips pressed into a fine line, Castiel glared daggers at him, hating himself for pitying him.

“With how you're presenting yourself, it's quite obvious that you are missing two years, Dean. It's like trying to level with a child sometimes. You hear and see only what you want. I think you have some growing up to do.” Castiel swallowed hard after he was done speaking, the aftertaste bitter, and he hated himself slightly for what he had said, but he was just so angry at how Dean seemed to be playing with his feelings without noticing how much he was hurting Cas.

Still, to make up for the scene he had caused, Castiel shrugged and muttered, “Feel better soon,” and then he promptly left the room before he accidentally made everything worse.

Not even a second after the door had shut behind him, Jo was up out of her seat and standing a little too close for Castiel's comfort.

“How did it go?” she asked as she glanced back and forth between Castiel and the hospital room. “Was he angry? You look upset. What happened?”

Castiel pushed past her, maybe a little too rudely, so he stopped and sighed to himself before he turned around to face her.

“It went fine, we're _fine,_ ” they weren't fine, nor had it gone as well as Castiel hoped, but he didn't feel like dragging Jo into the mess of it.

“Clearly,” Jo chimed with raised eyebrows, and folded her arms over her chest, but she didn't ask any further questions about what had happened.

“What happened to him?” Castiel asked after a moment of silence, glancing sheepishly at the hospital room, unable to ignore the pang of worry that still chewed away at him, despite how angry he was at Dean at the moment. “He mentioned the liver, but that sounds absurd...”

Jo snorted. “The liver? Wow, Dean's always so dramatic.” She grabbed Castiel's arm and yanked him slightly as she began walking, urging him to walk with her. “No, his liver is fine. He probably just overheard the doctors talking about the progress he's made since the accident. He had some internal bleeding back then, but his liver is fine now.”

They had already reached the end of the corridor, the whiz and beep from the elevators coming closer as they rounded a corner. And Jo hadn't told Castiel yet. He had a nagging feeling that people were trying to keep him out of this, or keeping something from him, and he hated that.

Castiel stopped promptly, refusing to take another step until he knew the whole truth. He was tired of always being two steps behind and only learning of the details afterwards. It wasn't fair.

“Then why is he in here? Why are they keeping him for so long?” He asked harshly, his eyes wide and pleading as he looked at Jo with some kind of demanding desperation in his eyes.

“I don't know – I promise that's the truth. He's been on some kind of meds since Sam figured out that his memory had been wiped, I guess he had some kind of reaction last night. Don't think you're supposed to be drinking with them. At least not that much.”

Jo chuckled as she talked, as if she was trying to lighten the mood and take the anxious feeling off of this whole thing. Then she took a step forward, closer to Cas, and once again put her hand to his arm, but this time she didn't pull him along, she just touched him.

“Look, you don't have to worry about this. Dean is fine, the doctors would have told us if it was critical or something. They're probably just taking tests and trying to figure out what's happening in his brain. _I'm_ not worried, Sam isn't either. He'll be outta here in no time, Cas. I'll text you any news, okay?”

“Okay.” Castiel gave her a nod and said goodbye as she turned to go back to the waiting room.

It was kind of sad that Jo and Sam were the only ones visiting, but Dean's dad had always been like that. Never really present, only around much enough to stir shit up, but never when it mattered. Not for Dean, anyway. Castiel remembered when Sam dislocated his shoulder one time, and John Winchester was all up in arms about it, yelling loud enough that Castiel could have sworn the walls were shaking, threatening the football couch and the entire team and talking big game about how he would call every single parent to the kids on the team to _“let them know a thing or two about what happens when you touch my son”_. The entire thing had been both terrifying and spectacular at once. Mostly because Sam had spent a good ten minutes trying to level with John and tell him that he didn't even get injured at practice or on the field. Then it just got sad when John instead accused Dean of not looking after Sam enough, which honestly was easier said than done since they didn't even go to the same school. All of it had turned into a screaming fight which had culminated when John broke an empty glass bottle against the edge of the kitchen counter, and Castiel had dragged both Dean and Sam out of there.

Thankfully John hadn't remembered much of what had happened, or else Castiel feared he wouldn't be welcome over anymore. It was enough that John didn't even know about him and Dean being together, even though Castiel could understand why Dean would rather keep their relationship from him, but he wasn't sure if he could have dealt with not being Dean's friend.

Strange how God or the Universe or something had decided that was something he had to experience anyway.

***

Castiel took the bus home from Lawrence Memorial. He didn't mind it, except for the fact that it smelled kind of weird, and shady people stared at him, it was actually okay. Inside of him, guilt was growing again, digging its claws deep into his conscience. He felt really bad about what he had said to Dean; how could he have let Dean get to him and make him lose his control so easily? Castiel had worked on this, tried for months to block Dean and his big, stupid mouth out of his brain. And yet, here he was, feeling guilty for just breathing and being alive. He didn't dare blame Dean alone for how he was feeling though. It wasn't Dean's fault, not _this_ Dean anyway, he didn't know, not truly, about the pain that Castiel had gone through.

Finally at home again, Castiel showered and tried to get as much of all the negativity he felt out of his system and down the drain, then he went downstairs with wet hair for lunch.

Anna joined Castiel a while later, sitting down next to him at the table, pulling a corner from his sandwich and pushing it into her mouth without asking. Castiel was too used to it to care. What he wasn't used to, was the way she was looking at him, with focused, narrowed eyes.

“What?” Castiel asked, feeling his skin crawl slightly at her hard stare.

“Did he hurt you?” she asked.

Castiel frowned, shaking his head. “No, what do you mean, what makes you think so Anna? He didn't do anything.”

Anna didn't look convinced. She sighed at him and crossed her arms on the table. “You look like you've been on a roller coaster for like four hours,” she said sharply and poked him in the side, which earned her a glare from her brother.

“Yes because I spent most of the night drinking and I'm hungover,” Castiel bit out, pulling back a little to avoid his sister's sharp fingernails. Anna had a look on her face of determination and stress, a look she always had whenever she had done something she thought was the right thing to do and only needed confirmation that she hadn't been in the wrong. Castiel clenched his jaw. “Why? What did you do?”

When Anna pulled her eyes away from him, and suddenly seemed very interested in his lunch instead of continuing the conversation, Castiel knew something was up.

“Anna! Tell me!” he growled at her, and pulled the plate with his food away from her direction.

Anna moved on the chair beside him; at first it seemed like she was getting up to leave, but then Castiel noticed she was digging into the pockets of her jeans for her phone, which she poked around on for a moment before sliding it over the table with a huff, her eyes still looking away in shame.

On the phone was a text message she had sent, and the receiver was Dean. The message was of the slightly threatening kind, and Castiel could feel himself growing furious as he read it over and over before pushing the phone back to her.

Dean and Anna were kind of similar in how fiercely protective they were of their siblings. Anna often acted like she thought she was Castiel's big sister, Gabriel used to taunt her about being the only girl so Castiel assumed she had some kind of sibling complex and needed to assert herself. Castiel normally didn't mind. Anna was wise and always gave him good advice and supported him and cared for him more than anyone else in his family, but it was confusing sometimes when she would one day be all about him learning and figuring things out on his own, and then the other meddled in his life.

“You have _no_ right to defend me, not when you weren't even there! I don't care if we share the same DNA, Anna, I can handle myself. Don't do that again!” Castiel got up from the chair and left the table, stomping out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his room.  
“For your information, we don't share the same DNA!” Anna called out after him, and somewhere in the back of his not-actually- _that_ -stupid-brain, he knew that too.

Up in his room, Castiel didn't know what to do. He knew he probably shouldn't be feeling upset about what had happened with Dean at the hospital, and the other day when he had run into Dean on the street just outside of Balthazar's apartment. But this was a feeling Castiel just could not shake off. Dean was constantly in his mind, like a ghost that would not stop haunting him, no matter how many times Castiel tried to get him out of there.

In an effort to distract himself, Castiel opened his laptop to get some studying done, but he only got stuck googling amnesia cases and memory loss. When that obviously didn't work as a distraction, he grabbed an old book off a shelf above his bed where he kept all of his favorites, and allowed himself to dive into a different world where Dean and their problems didn't exist. That only worked for a few more hours. Reading had always been one of the best ways to kill time and make disturbances in the mind go away temporarily for Castiel, but today it clearly was not working. Dean was immune to all of his weapons.

It even got to the point that Castiel seriously considered calling up Balthazar to ask for help with putting his thoughts and mind elsewhere, but he knew better than to act on those feelings. After all, Balthazar would know that Castiel was just using him for a temporary distraction, and even though Castiel maybe needed to just feel used for once, like he mattered for something, it wasn't fair to Balthazar. Besides, Castiel didn't even like him romantically, and the thought itself disgusted him and made him angry. At least _those_ thoughts of irritation and self-disgust were enough to keep his mind away from Dean for a little while.

Tired and annoyed, Castiel spent the rest of the day locked inside of his room. Part of him wished he had something to drink, something that would cure the hangover and erase any little worry of Dean, but then he only started thinking of Dean, hooked up to all those bleeping machines in the hospital. Because of alcohol. And as Monday came around, things did not exactly get any better.

The first day of school after the weekend was always the worst. Castiel was terrified of having to face Dean again, but to his surprise, Dean didn't appear to be in school. He'd thought Dean was maybe exaggerating when he mentioned the hospital might keep him for a few days. The possibility that Dean was still in there worried Castiel to bits, and it only brought on more guilt that he couldn't understand where it came from, or why.

It wasn't until the next day that Castiel finally spotted Dean in one of the many corridors in the building on their separate ways to class.

Courage and curiosity sparked inside Castiel's chest. He needed to talk to Dean, make sure he was alright, and maybe apologize for his behavior from the last time they spoke at the hospital. During lunch break, Castiel saw Dean again, sitting with Jo and the girl Castiel recognized as Robin, and some of their other friends, Victor and Benny.

Castiel excused himself from his sister and friends, mumbling something about Dean and then got up and crossed the cafeteria to approach Dean's table.

Jo was the first one to look up, a smile on her lips as she said hi to him.

“Dean. I've got to talk to you,” Castiel said, trying to avoid looking at the others at the table when he heard a distinct grunt coming from Benny – a big guy that had always seemed quite annoyed at Castiel's presence in Dean's life, for some reason Castiel didn't know and frankly couldn't care less about. “Do you have a minute?” he asked, shooting a glance to the quad just outside the cafeteria.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean said effortlessly and turned to give Jo a quick look.

Jo nodded and shoved Dean's shoulder. “Go,” she said, then “I'll look after your food for ya.”

But Castiel didn't think Dean's look at Jo meant he needed someone to protect his food, not with how tense Dean's shoulders looked and how he kept his eyes sort of on the ground as he walked with Castiel out to the quad, his hands dug deep into his pockets. Something seemed to be bothering Dean. Castiel wondered if he had told Jo about the memory that came back while in the hospital – maybe he was concerned that it was Castiel's fault, and if they spent too much time together, Dean would eventually lose his mind completely?

“What you wanna talk about?” Dean asked and brought Castiel back to the now. “You sorta disappeared on me there for a minute. You okay?”

Castiel swallowed. Right now in his mind, he was escaping back to the table where Anna and the rest of their friends were sat, waiting for him with judging eyes. None of them thought that him going down the Dean-road again was a good idea, but they trusted him and would probably support him and his decisions (or Anna did, at least Castiel hoped so. If she trusted Dean or not was a whole other story).

This couldn't end well, could it? No... Definitely not. It would all just turn into as big of a mess as it did the first time around.

Despite the anxious feeling inside, Castiel's legs kept moving, taking Dean to one of the few big oak trees that stood tall and proud on the grass, towering over the quad. Castiel hesitated for a moment, his worries finally finding its way down to his legs and pausing him in his steps.

“Dean,” Castiel began, taking a deep breath and letting out a heavy sigh before he pushed his shoulders back and reached out to grab Dean's wrist before sitting down crossed legged under the tree, pulling Dean down with him. Castiel observed the look on Dean's face; questions painted in his features, probably wondering why Cas was acting so strange and why he had taken him out here. Honestly, Castiel, who could be the most eloquent person at times, suddenly didn't know how to put his words together – like most of the time recently, he didn't know how to say what he wanted to say, and to make it even more complicated, he wasn't even sure of _what_ he was going to say.

“...Cas?” Dean had his head bent down slightly, as if trying to catch Castiel's eyes where they had fallen while his mind spiraled into strange thoughts and stress.

Castiel caught Dean's eyes, and sat up straighter. He swallowed, his throat felt thick and dry, then licked his lips and decided that no matter how his words came tumbling out of his clumsy mouth, it was better to have said what he wanted to say, than keep it in and let it destroy him.

“What happened this weekend, on Sunday, when you... remembered,” Cas mumbled, fidgeting with a loose thread on his jeans. “It gave me hope. Not of, you know, _us_ , but for you. I want you to be able to remember. And I want to... Perhaps we could be friends again. Without expectations of anything else, of course, I would perfectly understand if you wouldn't want that. And you don't have to worry about me trying to persuade you because you're not him.”  
Those last words came out sounding a lot harsher than Castiel had hoped, and as Dean narrowed his eyes and some kind of spark in his greens seemed to go out and turn his eyes into a matte, mossy shade, Castiel felt like the biggest kind of hypocrite in the world, and he couldn't help doubting his own words, instantly feeling regret start to fill him up.

Dean raised his eyebrows, looking back at the cafeteria and chuckled dryly. “Yeah you've made that pretty clear.” He looked back at Castiel. “So did you have anything else on mind or did you only bring me out here to make it extra clear that I can't ever live up to whatever crazy expectation you have of someone who I used to be?” Dean bit out with a smile as the hurtful words left his lips.

“You think too highly of yourself,” Castiel retorted, impulsively meeting Dean's anger with anger. “I would appreciate it if you refrained from putting words in my mouth. I have more important things to do than waste my time on hurting you, especially since you're usually such an expert on doing that yourself.”

“Wow.” Dean rolled his eyes, chuckling.

Castiel squinted at him. This wasn't going anywhere.

Just as Dean was about to open his mouth to say something more, he froze, similar to the way he'd looked when he spaced out for a split second in the hospital. Just like the last time he remembered something. Though, when the strained look in Dean's eyes faded, he kept his mouth shut for a while, holding whatever had appeared in his mind from Cas, and exhaled.

“Nothing's impossible. I'm sure we're gonna be buddies some day, we've got too many mutual friends for our paths not to cross. But I dunno.”

 _Get over yourself_. Dean could be such a stubborn asshole sometimes. Castiel chose to ignore him, and instead focused on if Dean had remembered something or not. He was too curious to let it go that easily.

“Dean, did you remember something again?”

Dean huffed, pulling on a tuft of grass. “What does it matter, you're hellbent on hating me anyway.”

That felt like a punch to the gut, but Castiel ignored that too. “That's not true.”

“No?” Dean raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing a word that was coming out of Castiel's mouth.

“No.” Castiel tilted his head slightly to the side. “Tell me.”

“I don't know, it's probably nothing. It wasn't like the other one. I just feel comfortable here, at this tree, like it's protecting me or something.” Dean looked down at his lap, avoiding Castiel's eyes.

“Oh, huh.” Castiel processed the new information for a moment. He wondered if he should tell Dean that he was probably feeling the remnants of another memory, one that might be buried deeper and harder to catch, but Castiel wasn't sure if it was the right time. Besides, there was a bigger part inside of Castiel that wanted to try something out – wanted to try to see if he could maybe trigger some memories back by making Dean relive them instead of telling him about it. Maybe Dean's body could remember certain movements and feelings, and it would shoot up to his brain and dig up the memories for him.

Castiel thought of all the times he and Dean had shared quick kisses between classes behind the big tree – it was big enough to conceal them from the rest of the student body, keeping people from seeing them and making the risk of getting in trouble smaller. They had spent a lot of time there, not just kissing, but hanging out, Dean babbling about something while Castiel tried to study, Dean then trying to get Castiel sidetracked.

“Do you mind if I try something?” Castiel asked, adding “I won't hurt you – or do anything inappropriate,” when Dean gave him a skeptical look. “Just trust me, alright?”

“I guess,” Dean said with a shrug and nodded.

After scooting a little closer, Castiel placed his hand on Dean's left shoulder and looked deep into Dean's green eyes, searching for something hidden behind them. Cas curled his fingers gently but firmly into the fabric of Dean's sweater, and pushed his back closer up against the trunk of the tree, still looking into his eyes. Dean's eyes were wide and stared back at him with confusion and when Castiel placed his other hand on the side of Dean's face and jaw and leaned in a little closer, he could feel Dean's pulse racing away beneath his skin.

They were so close that Castiel could smell the lunch on Dean's breath, almost taste it as their noses bumped slightly. Dean was so tense, Castiel feared for a moment that he would freak out and jump away. But he didn't, so Castiel kept holding him like that for a few more seconds, searching for some kind of reaction.

Before he had time to remind himself that he was trying to get a memory out of Dean and wasn't just doing this for old time's sake, Dean moved a hand up and pushed Castiel's hand off of his face gently.

“Dude,” Dean said as Castiel moved back, his heart dropping into the bottom of his chest as Dean seemed utterly unfazed which meant the attempt at triggering a memory had failed. “People are staring.”

So it hadn't worked after all. Castiel chewed on the inside of his cheek. At least it had been worth a try.

Castiel looked over his shoulder, reaching a hand out to the ground to pull out a handful of grass out in frustration. Only a few people were outside, but they were all busy doing other things except looking anywhere close to where Dean and Cas were sitting. _Dean was lying._ No one was looking at them, not from what Cas could see anyway, but that didn't stop Castiel's cheeks from heating up.

As Castiel turned back, his eyebrows tightly drawn together and his cheeks an uncomfortable red, Dean barked out a laugh.

“Got ya,” Dean said, shoving Castiel's shoulder lightly.

Castiel frowned. “I don't... I'm not sure I understand.”

“Why are you so scared of a little PDA?” Dean pursed his lips, wiggling his eyebrows. “You embarrassed of being seen with me or something?”

For a moment, Castiel wondered if maybe _he_ was the one who had triggered a memory out of himself, or if the tree was some kind of portal to an alternate reality or if it could travel in time. The way Dean talked and joked with him, the way he _looked_ at him – _oh god don't look at him_ – was eerily much like how Dean had been before.

When Castiel didn't say anything, but just stared at Dean with his lips parted as his heart threw an orchestra inside of him, Dean rolled his eyes and patted the tree trunk.

“How d'you know that would trigger a memory, Cas?” Dean asked, licking his lips and looking around, almost as if he was viewing the world with a new pair of eyes.

Castiel snapped his eyes back up to Dean. “I didn't,” he said, blinking a couple of times as he pieced one and two together. He shook his head a little, caught off guard that Dean hadn't only remembered something – he'd also played him. The asshole. “I thought, that perhaps if you couldn't remember, your body would. I found an article the other day about context-dependent, emotional and episodic memories, and I thought that maybe it could work like that feeling you get sometimes when you think you're experiencing a déja-vù?” Castiel rambled, spilling word after word out of his mouth, not holding back his curiosity and excitement. “Sometimes it's linked back to muscle movements and nerves, and your brain will register the habituated movement.”

“You're gonna have to write that one down for me, in English,” Dean joked and ran a hand over his face, his features serious when he placed his hand back in his lap. “I felt it,” he said, not specifying what exactly he was talking about.

Castiel would have to take him up on that later, the curiosity irritating him like an itch that wouldn't go away. He wanted Dean to tell him all about what he had felt, he wanted to listen to Dean's voice, hear him talk about all the things he wondered about or dreamed about, things he wished he remembered and things he hoped would come back to him.

“I guess I, uh, I take it back,” Dean added, “What I said about us not being friends. I ain't saying it's gonna be easy, but I want to try. I mean, if it's all in here somewhere,” he gestured to his head, “You're the only one who's made anything resurface.”

A crooked little smile spread across Castiel's lips. It would be hard, no doubt, even if it meant losing Dean again once he remembered, Castiel would do it. He would go through hell again for him.

The air seemed lighter. Castiel straightened up where he was sitting, feeling proud that he had for once managed to do something right. Things were definitely looking up, now he could just hope that it would continue in the same direction. 

Dean pulled his phone and a folder piece of paper out of his pocket then, glancing at the screen of his phone and then waving the paper when Castiel stared at him curiously.

“Lunch's over in like a minute,” Dean explained and opened the paper to look at his schedule.

“How is school going?” Castiel asked, narrowing his eyes at the paper, trying to see what Dean was taking. “I mean, with your memory loss.”

“Oh, yeah. I already passed, so I don't have to retake the last two years or anything. I spent a week before we started, and last week with Robin, she helped me go over the basics of everything we've covered just to make sure I'm caught up. For some reason, some academic memories have stuck, mostly anyway. It's the emotional and physical things that decided to take a vacation. I dunno. The doctors explained it better. The only important thing in this is I don't get set back two years.”

That explained why Dean had been spending so much time with his old friend Robin that Castiel barely knew. Dean probably remembered being closer friends with her than with Jo or any of the others. Plus, as far as Castiel knew, Robin was a high achiever and taking a lot of AP classes, so she probably knew what she was doing when she helped go through things with Dean.

“Let me see,” Castiel said, grabbing the schedule from Dean and moving over so that he was sitting next to him instead. He skimmed over the different classes, looking if they had any in common. If they were in the same year, they should at least have _something_ , but Castiel couldn't find anything.

A shadow, bigger and darker than the tree, suddenly covered the paper. Castiel glanced up to see a pair of legs, belonging to no one other than just Robin. She started talking with Dean, so Castiel turned his eyes back to the paper.

“What are you two doing together?” Robin asked Dean.

“We, uh–“

Castiel's eyes zoomed in on one name on the paper that he actually recognized, then he folded the paper again and handed it back to Dean.

Dean caught his eyes, and they looked at each other, holding their gazes steadily and a shudder went through Castiel's body. He found it a lot harder to pull his eyes away from Dean now that he could see glimpses of the old Dean in there somewhere. It was like they were finally beginning to land on the same level, maybe starting to find the way back to each other somehow.

“We have history together,” Castiel said simply, still looking at Dean.

***

When the school bell rang at the end of the day, after sitting through the whole afternoon of different classes, one of which was history with Dean, Castiel actually felt good for the first time since he had gotten back to school.

Of course Balthazar had to walk up to Castiel after his last class while he was standing by his locker, packing the necessary things into his backpack, and asked him if he wanted to hang out after school. Without as much as a hint of hesitation, Castiel said no, the words rolled so easily off his tongue that Castiel caught himself with how strange it felt – not wrong, just different. Like there had been a tiny shift in the Universe that would otherwise had gone unnoticed.

Castiel furrowed his brow as he repeated himself when Balthazar asked him “Are you sure, Cassie?”

“No,” Castiel said, then quickly shook his head and closed his eyes, frustrated and feeling something like a migraine pushing inside of his skull. He raised up a hand when Balthazar huffed and was about to start speaking again, going to question Castiel, his arms crossed over his chest in a nonchalant way.

“I mean yes, I'm sure, I can't today Balthazar, and I wouldn't want to even if I could.”

The haunting images of Dean had faded slightly, they were farther away in Castiel's mind and not as tangible as they had been before. Perhaps because Dean was now becoming more and more like the Dean Castiel remembered, albeit slowly. Was that the small shift that made it easier to reject Balthazar, on top of everything else, of course? Castiel didn't need the distraction, not today at least. And even if he ever did, that was a can of worms Castiel wasn't too eager to explore anyway.

That afternoon, after spending a few tedious hours studying, Castiel ventured back down the street towards the Winchester house to visit Dean. After contemplating whether or not to take the front door, he eventually decided against it, not wanting to risk having to face Sam or John. So Castiel took his usual route and climbed the tree up to Dean's room and easily slid the window open and went inside.

The room was empty.

Castiel pulled his cell phone up from his pocket and scrolled through his list of contacts, deciding to write Dean a text inside of exploring the rest of the house in search of him.

 _'Where are you? /Castiel'_ he typed out and pressed send, thinking it was probably for the better to add his name just in case Dean (or Sam or Jo or anyone else who wanted to keep his past from him) had erased his name and number from Dean's phone.

As Castiel waited for Dean to reply to the text, he spent some time hanging out in his room. He wanted so badly to go through Dean's things, which he realized was pretty creepy actually, but he wanted to get to know who this new, _before Cas_ -Dean was, on a more personal level. And one of the easiest ways to do that was to look at his things, a person's possessions and things could tell so much about them, little things and details that normally didn't get noticed, things that couldn't always be described or explained. Things that had to be discovered. But despite the extreme urge to rummage through Dean's bedroom and inspect everything down to the dust bunnies under his bed, Castiel didn't. It would be crossing an invisible line in whatever kind of relationship they had now, and Castiel knew Dean probably wouldn't like it, that he would probably feel uncomfortable if he knew or noticed that Castiel went through his drawers and shelves, plus it would gnaw at Castiel's conscience for eternity. The old Dean had never cared when Castiel went through his personal things, then again, they were very close, and Cas was quite certain that old Dean had liked that odd part of him.

When five minutes had passed without any text from Dean, Castiel went back home. He made it to the driveway of his house before his phone finally buzzed in his palm where he still held it, and he immediately opened the message to read it.

_'@ the lake. pretty sure weve been here before together and with sammy'_

As Castiel skimmed his eyes over the message, his heart skipped a beat at finding out that Dean had another memory come back to him. His phone buzzed again and a new message bumped up the one he'd been reading.

_'the pain in my head is a bitch. be happy u still got all ur mmrs'_

The lake. Yeah, Cas remembered the lake too. They had spent most of the previous summer there, it was a nice lake where they could be themselves, with lots of little places to escape away from people's judging eyes. Dean had told him he used to go there a lot when he was younger too, not only during the summer, to go fishing with his brother and dad, and then when his father got worse, with his uncle Bobby.

Dean called when Castiel didn't reply to his messages. Cas spent too long trying to come up with a good enough response, and lost track of time. It caught him off guard when Dean's name suddenly flashed up on the screen of his phone in big letters, but he picked up the call in a heartbeat.

“That was fast,” Dean said, the sound of the wind hitting the water in the background.

“I had my phone in my hand,” Castiel replied sheepishly.

“Took you long enough to reply though,” Dean added quickly.

“I haven't replied.”

“Exactly.” A beat. Awkward silence filled the space between them, allowing just the brisk wind and the roll of the waves to fill up Castiel's ears and mind. “Why did you ask where I was?” Dean asked eventually.

“I was, uh, curious...” Castiel mumbled somewhat quietly and fidgeted with his free hand, his neck heating up a little in embarrassment. “Actually, I went to see you, but you weren't in your room.” He bit his tongue and hoped Dean wouldn't get upset that he had broken into his room again without his permission. In Castiel's defense, the bedroom window had been unlocked, so he wasn't technically _breaking_ in as much as letting himself in unannounced.

Dean chuckled on the other side of the line. “You were in my room again? Man we should get you a key or something. It's gonna get cold soon, don't want you slippin' off the roof or something.”

Castiel attempted to laugh, but it came out sounding more like something had gotten stuck in his throat and died. “I was looking for you and preferred to not run into your brother or father. Sam would only ask questions, and your father can be scrutinizing,” Castiel explained.

“Hey, it's cool. You probably know every inch of my room anyway.”

“I don't know every inch of your room, not any more now that you've redecorated and removed most of what I remember.” Castiel rolled his eyes to no one and then grabbed his car keys off the counter in the hallway, already walking out to the car. “Would you mind if I drive up there? To the lake? I could bring you an Advil,” he added, not really caring or waiting for an answer, already getting into his car.

“Yeah that'd be nice,” Dean said, and there was a faint splashing sound in the background. “I'm on the pier.”

“I'll be up there in a little while,” Castiel said as he closed the car door and put the keys in the ignition, moving his grip on the phone and held it between his ear and shoulder as he turned the keys. “See you then.”

Castiel hung up and put the phone away as he backed out of the driveway and then drove up to the lake. In all honesty, Castiel didn't love driving, and unless it was absolutely necessary, he preferred to be in the passenger seat. Especially now after finding out that Dean had been in a car accident.

Castiel's car was small and easy to drive. He shared it with his twin, even though Anna was the one who used it the most, sometimes even driving the short way to school instead of walking or biking.

***

“I haven't been here since last summer,” Castiel muttered grimly as he walked over to sit down next to Dean when he finally arrived at the lake.

Dean was sitting on the edge of the pier, his jeans rolled up to his knees to avoid them getting wet as his feet was in the water. “Can you tell me about it? I, uh, didn't remember much, it was more like I just knew we'd been here.”

Castiel took off his shoes as well pushed his jeans up to his knees. He let his legs dangle over the edge of the pier, felt the brisk water touch his feet. It was nice. He closed his eyes and let the warm sunbeams dance over his skin. God, he'd missed this. Staying inside, in the darkness of his room while his salty tears dried deep into his skin wasn't exactly the best way to spend the summer.

“I can't tell you of only one particular moment, seeing as we've been up here plenty of times. Fishing and swimming and roasting marshmallows over campfires, your brother was indeed with us a lot of the time,” Castiel said with a sigh as he thought back of all of their moments at the lake. Then, there were the times when Sam hadn't been there with them. Those moments where Cas had spent hours at the lake with Dean alone. Castiel savored those memories, but he wasn't going to tell Dean about things he probably didn't want to imagine yet. 

“I still can't believe Sammy never told me about you. I'm not really the guy to drag my baby brother with me on dates – at least I don't think I'm that guy, but he must've really liked you if he spent that much time with us.” Dean said as he was staring at the water.

“Dean, it wasn't like that,” Castiel mumbled, his eyes also glued to the water where he watched his feet as he moved them down further until they disappeared beneath the surface and he couldn't see them anymore. “Not every time we spent together was a date. We were best friends too, and Sam is my friend, and your brother. It only came natural that he spent a lot of time with us. So did Jo, and Anna at times as well. I don't understand why they kept my existence from you either, or why nobody told me about you. As if it wasn't important enough...” At the mention of his sister, Castiel reached a hand up to scratch nervously at the short curls at the back of his neck, averting his eyes slightly. “I apologize on her behalf, by the way, for sending that text message to you. It was uncalled for.”

“Man, don't sweat it. As long as she doesn't actually go on a murder rampage after me, it's fine. Besides I think I had it coming,” Dean said with a chuckle.

Castiel chuckled too, and pulled his legs up out of the water. “Anna won't kill you. She won't touch a hair on your head.”

They both fell silent then. Castiel chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, contemplating whether or not to tell Dean about Anna. They sat in quiet, looking out over the lake, it was quiet and nice up there at this time of the year, just a short drive away from the rest of the civilization. During summer, it was crowded, filled with children and families trying to escape the heatwave. But today, it was empty, and mother nature was mostly still, allowing all of nature's sounds to fill the air; birds chirping, the water rolling against the shore, leaves catching in the light wind.

Then as Castiel's thoughts simmered in his mind, somewhere to his right, Dean started talking again, asking more questions, a hesitant pause to his voice.

“Could you, uh... Could you tell me more about Jo, or Anna? I know I was with you, but did I ever... Because Jo's not mentioning much about what happened during my memory loss either, and lately you seem to be the only one who's giving me answers, so,” Dean seemed tense where he was sitting, his legs crossed and his shoulders somewhat slumped, a knit in his brows. His eyes were currently on his phone that he held in his hands, scrolling through something Castiel couldn't quite see.

Castiel's eyes lingered on him, trying not to get too distracted by the way the light was hitting his green eyes and made the parts of the tanned skin Cas could see almost glow, his freckles prominent in the sun.

“I'm not sure,” Castiel said, shifting in his position and shrugging slightly as he pulled his eyes from Dean and glanced out over the water again as he collected his thoughts. “I have been suspecting that she may have been harboring a crush on you for quite some time – not that I would blame her,” Castiel attempted to laugh at that. “Anna did too, have a crush on you, I mean, but only in the beginning, up until you and I... You know.” Castiel grimaced, he didn't like thinking about his sister and Dean. “You were together, though very briefly. Anna would never hurt you, because she knows how much you mean to me, and deep down she is a good person. She can be overprotective sometimes, but she's only doing what she thinks best.”

“Huh.” Dean's face was deeply focused on the screen, and he only nodded faintly when Castiel stopped talking. “Here,” he said, sliding the old cell phone into Castiel's hands, “Read 'em. Tell me if there's anything I should know, or try to figure out. Most of it doesn't make sense to me.”

Castiel carefully took Dean's phone into his hands and held it in his lap as he gently ran his finger over the screen, scrolling through the text messages, not really reading, only scanning his eyes over the contents of conversations briefly. He hated doing these kinds of things, it made him feel like he was peeking into someone's personal life, interrupting their privacy. It was almost as bad as going through somebody's diary, or underwear drawer.

“I'm not completely certain of what it is I'm supposed to be looking for,” Castiel muttered with a slight pout to his lips before putting Dean's phone down between them on the pier. Then it sort of hit him out of nowhere. “Oh,” he said, shaking his head quickly. Did Dean think that Jo broke them up? Castiel gave Dean a small smile. “No, no, Jo didn't cause this. Although she might have been crushing on you, she was very supportive of us, and keeping us together. She's very kind.”

“Right,” Dean let out something between a laugh and a sigh of relief. “Of course.”

A light tint of red spread over Dean's neck, and Castiel smiled at seeing him feel embarrassed over suspecting such a thing.

“ _You_ broke up with me. It's a long story, and I'm not very fond of thinking about it, so I won't bother you with all the details, at least not today,” Castiel said, looking at Dean who in his turn was watching the waves, his jaw tight. “It was both of our faults. You were frustrated with me, we argued a lot about becoming more public. I wasn't very big on PDA and it was a constant rift in our relationship.” Castiel inhaled slowly and looked down at their feet where they had once again let them into the water. He sighed. “And then I... I went over to your house one afternoon, and we argued and it turned into a fight. I brought up the accident, partly on purpose, which enraged you but I was insistent and pushy about that and other things – we're both very stubborn – and it all went downhill from there on, until you simply told me, loud and clear, that you were done. We were done.” Castiel's voice may or may not have hitched and caught in his throat a little. His heart had dropped like a heavy stone in his chest, and he considered throwing himself into the lake, diving deep, deep down and holding his breath until his lungs caved in. “That's the short version. Needless to say, there's a lot more to it.”

Like how Castiel had turned and slammed the door in Dean's face when he left without looking back, taking the front door for once, stomping out through the Winchester's house instead of staying and begging for Dean to change his mind with tears in his eyes. No, that would have meant letting Dean have control, it would have meant losing and letting go of their stupid fight and Castiel just couldn't have that. They were both too stubborn for their own good. In retrospect, Castiel kind of wished he would have stayed, would have worked things out. Maybe they could have yelled at each other until they didn't have any more air in their lungs, so they would just collapse and mumble I'm sorrys.

There was no use in speculating. Castiel had done that well enough the past few months, and as it seemed, Dean still had all the power over him anyway, so...

Dean snorted. “Man, I was a dick, wasn't I.”

“We both were.”

Castiel tried to give Dean an apologetic smile when he turned his head towards him, but Dean's eyes were back to the phone, his jaw still set stiffly and he shook his head a little.

“I'm an asshole, always ruin the few good things I got going for me.”

“No, Dean, you were jus–“

“ _Fuck!_ ” Dean half-yelled, cutting Castiel off mid sentence, suddenly flinging his phone off into the water.

“Dean, calm down, what are you– _Dean_ , your phone!”

Castiel stared at him, eyes big and stern. He had seen this side of Dean so many times before, but just because he was used to it, it didn't mean that he liked it.

Dean got to his feet, and Castiel followed quickly, throwing his arm out to point to where Dean's cell phone slowly sunk to the bottom of the lake. He couldn't help but feel a little bit hurt. This Dean was, although scarily familiar, still so unlike _his_ Dean. His emotions were still so unstable, anger and outbursts seemed to lie close to the surface at all points, something Castiel had worked so hard with Dean in the past to help him manage. Of course, this Dean had no memory of that.

Before Castiel could process what had just happened, Dean moved to the right of him and all of a sudden threw himself into the water, diving off the pier headfirst into the chilly lake.

“Dean, you idiot,” Castiel called after him and got down to his knees near the edge of the pier. “Get out of there, I'll help you,” he said the next time Dean came up for a breath, shaking the water out of his face and blinked to clear his eyes of it. His hair looked stupid, wet and plastered to his forehead, and he seemed just as shocked as Castiel was over what he had just done. Or maybe he was only realizing just how cold the water was.

Either way, Castiel knelt closer to the edge and reached his arm out to help pull Dean up out of the water.

Dean didn't say much, he just swam up to Castiel and grabbed his hand. Castiel held onto the pier to pull himself back as leverage and balance for when Dean grabbed his hand. If the circumstances had been different, Castiel would probably have thought more of how it felt to feel Dean's hand in his own again, but right now the only thing he noticed was how cold the water felt against his sunbathed, warm skin.

“Hold on,” Castiel said through his teeth and closed his hand around Dean's and pulled up and back, leveraging his weight on his knees as much as he could. To help him, Dean balanced himself on the pier with his other hand, and they both heaved upwards with all their combined strength. At the moment though, Castiel would bet that Dean was stronger, not to mention he was bigger in build which meant it was quite tough to pull him up, and it became evidently clear as Dean's hand slipped on the wet wood and he fell back, their hands still locked together, and he pulled Castiel back with him.

“Dean, no, wait–“ Castiel yelled, panic slipping through his voice as he pulled back onto the pier with everything he had, trying to keep his balance, but before he could hold his breath, his body was already splashing into the freezing water.

At first he was shocked to the point where he couldn't move. Castiel felt himself go under and he blinked open his eyes to look up, seeing the sharp sun rays shine through the darkness of the lake. His heart was beating slow, and hard, and he yelped – his mouth instantly filling with water, causing him to cough, spluttering out water and swallowing more. Finally, panic kicked in completely and Castiel began moving his legs and arms, flailing around like a scared little bird until he finally reached the surface after what felt like an eternity. The ringing in his ears was deafening at first, but then he could hear Dean calling his name, and the sounds coming from his own mouth as he coughed and spluttered, swallowing water and gurgling as he tried desperately to form coherent words.

“Cas? Cas!” Dean shouted, twisting and turning in the water as he looked for him.

“Dean,” Castiel gurgled before his head went under again and he slammed his arms against the water angrily, trying to stay afloat. “Can't– swrrm,” he coughed and spluttered between his gasps for air, “Herrlp, Dean,” Castiel tried to blink his eyes to get the water out, but it just kept blurring his vision.

His clothes were completely drained and heavy, pulling Castiel down against his will, and the more he flailed and tried to stay above the surface, the more he seemed to sink faster. Fortunately enough, he hadn't breathed in any water, not that he was aware of anyway. He'd swallowed a lot though, and he could feel himself going into shock.

Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel could see Dean approaching in long, confident strokes as he swam closer, calling out for Cas to keep still when he accidentally hit Dean in the face with one of his arms as he thrashed around.

Ever since Castiel was little, he had never been fond of going in the water deeper than his feet could reach the bottom. He had never been a good swimmer, and found the way the water's gravity worked rather terrifying. As a child, he frequently had nightmares about the depths pulling him down, embracing him in the darkness of the deep where strange creatures and dangers lured. Technically, Castiel knew how to swim, although he still wasn't very good at it. The summer he had spent up at the lake with Dean and Sam had helped a lot, they taunted him and joked about it at first, but they were patient and had been nice to him about it, made him feel more secure and confident and eventually he even swam out really far – with Dean there next to him of course.

It was when he panicked that he lost all rational thinking and the calm he had felt before. On top of the other ways Castiel's feelings had been running amok lately, it just simply wasn't a very good combination. Everything that Dean had taught him about feeling comfortable in the water seemed to disappear in the moment Castiel had gone under.

“Stay still goddammit, I'm try'na help you,” Dean barked at him but luckily finally managed to get an arm around Castiel's chest after some struggling. He held him up above the surface as he pulled them both towards the base of the pier where they could stand up easily and heave themselves up onto the wooden platform where they promptly collapsed on their backs. Dean was breathing fast and heavy, catching his breath, as Castiel was busy coughing up every last content of his stomach and lungs.

Every muscle in Castiel's body was on fire and ached, and he was shivering, they both were, their clothes wet and sticky to their bodies.

“Thanks, Dean,” Castiel managed to get out between coughing and catching his breath. “Normally my swimming ability is at least a little bit better than this,” he said and laughed – which quickly turned into another coughing fit.

“Sure, if you say so, Michael Phelps.”

They sat it silence for a while as they caught their breaths and calmed down.

Castiel glanced down at the way his wet clothes clung tightly and slickly around his body with a grimace. His white shirt had turned translucent and the light breeze made the otherwise nice temperature feel freezing.

“You shouldn't have gotten so angry before. You still don't know the whole story,” Castiel said, turning to Dean just as he pulled his wet rag of a t-shirt off over his head.

“You should do the same,” Dean said and gestured to where he'd thrown his shirt, ignoring Castiel's previous statement and instead seemed wholly focused on getting his jeans off. “Might catch a cold, or pneumonia or something.”

Seeing as there was _no way_ Castiel was staying in his wet clothes and getting into his car later (it would only ruin the leather seats and Anna would be profoundly _pissed off_ at him for using the car once and getting it ruined), Castiel started unbuttoning his shirt, keeping his eyes averted.

“That's not how it works, the only way to catch a cold is because of a virus or bacteria. It's a myth that it would have anything to do with the weather or temperatures. But thanks for the concern anyway,” Castiel said with a shrug and pushed his jeans down, grateful that he had left his own cell phone in the car.

“Whatever.”

They laid their clothes out on the wood in the direct sunlight to dry, it would probably take a while, but it would be faster than it would have on their bodies. Plus, Castiel had already stopped shivering, and he could feel his skin getting warmer in the sun.

Dean, on the other hand, had goosebumps on his arms, Castiel noticed as he watched him lie down on his back on the wood. It felt awkward, Castiel felt exposed, despite having showed himself completely naked around Dean before, and now they were still wearing underwear.

Castiel pulled his eyes from Dean's body and stared out at the lake instead, fixing his eyes on a spot where the sun made the surface almost sparkle with the small waves, the surface of the water glimmering in the sunbeams. Then he turned his face to the sky and looked directly at the sun, letting it blind his eyes for a couple of seconds until dots in strange shapes and colors danced in his vision. As they faded, Castiel looked at the shoreline where it stretched and eventually met a road, then to the boats to the other side, anything as long as he didn't have to look at Dean where he was lying on display.

Sure, he'd seen it all before, but that was exactly the problem. If this was just anybody else, no one special, just a friend, Castiel wouldn't care. But this was _Dean_. His ex-boyfriend Dean who wasn't really _his_ and didn't actually remember anything about being his boyfriend, and he was lying down on his back in nothing but his underwear and the sun made his tanned skin glow and Castiel wanted to die. His mouth suddenly felt too dry, and swallowing didn't help the feeling go away. Castiel just felt sad. He knew every part of that body, knew how every muscle felt under his touch and it pained him, because he missed it all so much.

“Are you cold?” Castiel mumbled and pulled his legs up to his chest, then giving in to the urge and letting his eyes fall on Dean's body. The air seemed heavy, harder to breathe, just like it had that first day back in school when he had seen Dean for the first time since the breakup and he had almost had a panic attack. “You have goosebumps,” he mumbled quietly, tentatively reaching a hand out to run a finger along Dean's underarm.

Dean pulled his arm away to scratch at the place Castiel touched him.

“I'm fine, Cas” Dean muttered, cranking one eye open to look at Castiel as he pushed himself up on his elbows. “What about you though?”

To his right, Castiel could see Dean sitting up properly and scooting closer to his side.

“I'm fine. The sun is warm.”

“Really?”

Castiel could feel Dean's bare shoulder brush against his own and when he turned to look at him, Dean's face was so close to him that it almost caused Castiel to jolt back and apologize, but he didn't. Instead he narrowed his eyes at Dean.

“Really.” Castiel clenched his jaw. He wasn't freezing anymore. Sure, the wind was still quite cool and chilly, but as long as he sat directly in the sun, it was actually kind of nice.

Still, Dean didn't move, and the air was beginning to feel more and more thick and intoxicating with every breath Castiel took.

“'Cause...” Castiel could have sworn that Dean's eyes dropped to his lips, and his heart immediately started drumming heavily in his chest. “Your lips are kinda blue,” Dean finished, reaching a finger up as if to show Cas, running his fingers softly just below Castiel's lower lip.

Castiel swallowed, opened his mouth like a fish out of water, not sure what to say as all his thoughts seemed to have fled out of his mind.

“Uh,” he said eloquently when Dean hovered closer, and every muscle in Castiel's entire body seized.

Things happened way quicker than Castiel wished.

One moment, Dean's lips were somehow _on his own_ and the entire world – even the lake – seemed to have stilled and become quiet and the only thing he could think about was that Dean was kissing him, his lips soft and plump and warm. The next moment Dean had jumped to his feet, collected all of his clothes and was moving back to where their cars were parked.

It all happened so fast that when Castiel turned around to stop Dean, to ask him what the hell that was, or _why_ , Dean was already climbing into the Impala. Castiel jogged a couple of steps towards the base of the pier, but he was too late. Dean was already backing out, and his eyes seemed only focused on the road.


	4. Falling Away With You

Fuck. Fuck, _fuck._

Why did he keep doing this? Why did Dean – no matter what version of him – always run out on him? He kept leaving him, and Castiel couldn't make sense of it. Was he pushing Dean away? Just like he had pushed him away that night Dean broke up with him and made him go away? What if Dean didn't really want to get to know him after all, what if he didn't want to be his friend – what if he didn't want _anything_ to do with Cas? He kept bailing, kept disappearing.

“Okay then,” Castiel muttered and sat back down, watching dust form clouds in the air as the tires squealed when Dean drove away from the lake.

He sat there, at the lake, until it started getting dark and he grabbed his not-yet-dry clothes and drove back home, ice cold, not even sending as much as a glance in the direction of Dean's house when he drove past it up to his own. Right now, Castiel hated that they lived on the same street, that no matter how far they would run from each other, they would always end up here, back home, back to being neighbors. All he wanted was to stop existing. He felt like he didn't have a purpose – and if he did, he wasn't sure what that was anymore. The only person who used to make him want to keep fighting, keep moving forward, was gone, and only the ghost of him remained.

When Castiel finally got home, his family seemed a bit worried, but none of them said or did anything to show their concern, but Castiel couldn't care less, he was used to their cold demeanor. After showering and changing into warm and comfortable sweats, Castiel curled up on the sofa with Anna and had dinner there while watching some made-for-television movie.

Castiel didn't like talking about his personal life with anyone, but Anna was mostly okay. She knew more than anyone about him, because they were so close. But Cas still didn't _like it_. He guessed this was probably how Dean had been feeling every time Castiel tried to get him to talk about things and feelings, the accident in particular. Dean was the most emotional constipated person Cas had ever met. It was like he was allergic to feelings and especially talking about them. It was probably a defense mechanism. Despite that, Castiel was one of the lucky few that Dean would sometimes actually open up to. It had made Cas feel privileged, special.

“Cas, give it time, okay?” Anna tried, bringing him out of his own thoughts, and placed another bowl of ice cream in his hands. “You told me the other day that he was remembering... That's good, right? It will come back, sooner or later. You'll get him back.”

Castiel shrugged and stared at the chocolate ice cream in the bowl that was currently melting and mixing together with the vanilla.

“But what if it hurts him? I'd rather he stays sane and doesn't remember than losing his mind because of me. And you don't know if he will want to be with me even if he gets his memories back. He broke up with me, after all.”

Anna sighed, then leaned closer to her brother and kissed his forehead.

“You're right, Castiel. I don't know. What I do know, is that he wouldn't have kissed you unless he felt _something_. Now shut up, eat your ice cream and don't think more about it. You dwell too much on things. Just let it work out on its own.”

***

That night, Castiel fell asleep quickly. It must have had something to do with the long day, the heat of the strong sun and the falling-into-the-lake thing. The day had felt much longer than what it really was.

Castiel woke up around seven, but refused to leave the warmth of his bed, until Anna bashed her fist against his door and went inside without waiting for him to say it was okay, told him he would be late, and placed a cup of coffee on his bedside table. He grumbled something about 'not giving a damn' but ten minutes later, he was at least sitting up on the edge of his bed, sipping from the hot coffee.

With heavy legs, Cas dragged himself into the shower and then downstairs. It was raining. Anna handed him a banana and shuffled him towards the front door.

“I should have left already,” she muttered as she put her jacket on.

“Why didn't you?” Castiel asked through a mouthful of banana.

Anna just rolled her eyes and grabbed Cas' coat and hung it over his arm before grabbing both their bags and then holding the door open for him.

Outside, Balthazar was waiting for them in his car.

Castiel started to protest, stopping in the door, staring daggers at his sister.

“He offered,” Anna explained, turning to her brother with a shrug. “We were late. Balthazar was too and when he drove past our street and saw my– _our_ car in the driveway, he offered to give us a ride because of the rain. That's why I waited for you. But you have to stop analyzing things. It's not healthy. It's just a car ride.”

 _Easy enough for you to say_ , Castiel thought, still giving his sister dirty looks as he obediently got into the car after her. At least Anna was nice enough to take the front passenger seat. That way Cas didn't have to endure the full five minute car ride to school sitting next to Balthazar.

It was fairly easy to spend time around Balthazar, despite the hostile tension from Cas' side, and Balthazar's flirty nature. As long as Castiel avoided taking part in any conversations with him, and ignored him as much as possible, things were fine. When they met up with the rest of their friends at their lockers after first period, things seemed even better. News had spread about Bela and Portia finally deciding to become official, and everyone was giddy and excited about that.

Anna kept coaxing him to be more positive, to go with the flow and just let the universe take over the metaphorical wheels for a while. Maybe then things would finally start to pan out. So he made a point to not say 'no' too much or be too introverted or reticent, because he remembered how that had ended last time (Dean dumping him. And okay, that wasn't entirely the reason, but still). It was about time that he tried even more to come out of the shell he had spent most of the summer building around himself anyway, even if it meant getting the occasional strange looks from people.

At the end of the schoolday, the raining had finally stopped, and Castiel and Anna walked the short way home together.

They were quiet at first, probably thinking about different things. Castiel was mostly enjoying the smells the heavy rain had brought out, like the wet grass and leaves, and the smell when the rain dried on the asphalt.

Apparently, Anna's mind was busy with something else.

“Things are fine with you and Balthazar, right?”

Castiel frowned at her. “I suppose.”

“And with Dean?”

Castiel sighed, rolling his eyes. “Yes.”

“I just want you to tell me if things are, I don't know, moving too fast. You don't talk with me as much as you used to.”

“Are you referring to before or after Dean broke up with me?” Castiel snorted, turning his face and looking the other way, his hands digging deep into the pockets of his jacket.

“Before, of course. You don't have to get so defensive,” Anna said, her voice louder and Castiel could hear her stopping in her step behind him.

“You don't have to be so nosy.”

“And you don't have to be rude for no reason, Castiel.”

Oh no. She'd used his full name. Things were about to get serious.

Castiel stopped too, then turned to her.

Anna looked miserable, and once again Castiel remembered the hell he'd put his family through when he was down and depressed, how _hard_ Anna had tried to be there for him, to help and support him, bring him back to life. All this time, Castiel though about how hard it was for _him,_ but he didn't spend enough time thinking about how hard it had been on them too.

Just as he was about to open his mouth to apologize for snapping at her, Anna's beat him to it.

“I'm sorry,” she said, shaking her head a little. “I'm... I care a lot about you. I just worry.”

Castiel chewed on the inside of his lip, then walked up to Anna and hooked his arm in hers.

“I haven't thanked you enough for that. For always being there for me. I don't deserve it, the way I've treated you, I've been awful. _I'm_ sorry.”

Anna smiled at him and they started walking again. “You don't have to thank me for anything. But I have to admit it feels good to hear,” she said, and Castiel smiled back at her.

“I might stop by at Dean's,” Castiel mumbled when they arrived on their street.

Anna frowned. “Would you like me to come with you?”

“I'm only going to ask if he got a new cell phone yet. I'm not sure what terms we're on but I'd still like to have his number just in case, if that's alright with him,” Castiel said with a shrug.

“Okay, then I'm coming with you,” Anna said and nodded, “You're too attached, God knows what might happen if you two are alone for too long. Either way someone's gonna end up hurt in the end.” Anna said, a joking melody to the tone of her voice, clearly referencing the day before and the lake-incident.

They walked up to the Winchester's front door together and Anna rang the bell while Castiel rolled his eyes at her and how she always so naturally seemed to take control of the situation whenever they did something together.

When the door was opened, the younger of the two Winchester brothers stood there, looking over Anna and Castiel with soft but curious eyes.

“Hi, Sam,” Anna said with a smile. “Is Dean around?”

Sam nodded and gestured with his arms for them to come inside. “He's upstairs, said he didn't want to be disturbed. I... I think he's _studying_ ,” Sam said, letting out something of a frustrated grunt.

Castiel could understand his frustration. Dean never really needed to study, unlike himself and Sam. None of them were stupid, they were all smart, but for Dean it came naturally. Personally, Castiel preferred to not study – he only did the essential reading and writing to pass his classes, but most of the time it was like he had two little voices inside of his head. One that told him to at least _try_ to live up to his parents and his family's expectations in him, and another voice that just said to hell with all of it.

But Dean was different now. Maybe he needed to study now, to get his mind back to work, to trigger those academic memories or something.

While Castiel had spaced out momentarily, Anna was busy talking to Sam about their brothers and their complicated situation.

“Anna!” Castiel hissed, tugging on her elbow slightly to move her to the side as if they could talk more privately two feet away from Sam.

“What?” she asked and turned to him, seemingly annoyed that he had pulled her away from her conversation with Sam. “You wanted me to come along, didn't you?”

“Yes, but I don't need for you to put me to the side when I am the one who has business here.”

Anna glared at him, and Castiel glared right back, all apologies from ten minutes ago blown out the window.

“Sam, _and Anna_ , none of that is any of your business. It's between me and Dean,” Castiel muttered and started glancing around the house, his eyes lingering especially on the staircase. “Sam, would you mind? I'd really like to talk to Dean.”

Instead of waiting for an answer, Castiel simply stepped further inside the house and then walked to the stairs, glancing back when he heard Sam's “Be my guest,” and gave Anna a look that said _Stay there_. They could, despite their differences, read each other pretty well, as most twins could.

 _“Sorry, he's impossible when he's set his mind to something,”_ Anna said to Sam when she thought Castiel was out of ear's reach.

_“No, I get it. Dean's the same. They're both stubborn.”_

_“Those two better work out their problems soon, huh? Or else I have a feeling they might bring on the apocalypse,”_ Anna's laugh filled the house. _“By the way, what about you Sam? Have you found anyone special yet?”_

Castiel had stopped in the stairs, not to eavesdrop on his sister and Sam, but because he couldn't make his legs move forward. 

_“Maybe. I'm meeting Jessica this weekend. I've wanted to ask her out for a while but she beat me to it.”_

_“Jessica? Oh! Jessica as in Jessica Moore? She's a doll, she tried out for the school paper, didn't she? I know I recognized the name from somewhere. Oh wow, Sam, good for you.”_

Loud music was coming from Dean's room, making it more difficult for Castiel to hear the conversation going on downstairs. He'd finally managed to get himself up to the corridor that led to Dean's bedroom and now he was anxiously standing outside, wondering if this was maybe one of the worst ideas he'd ever had. Then again, most of his impulse decisions lately had been less than ideal.

Eventually, not wanting to keep his sister waiting, Castiel raised his fist and knocked loud and hard on the door.

“Dean? Dean let me in. It's Castiel.”

From the other side of the door, Castiel could make out the faint sounds of a chair being pushed back, and then the door was pulled open and Dean was standing there, dark circles under his eyes, bed hair and all.

“Hey.”

Castiel's heart broke a little when he saw Dean. He looked so tired, like he hadn't slept at all that night. The loud music made it difficult for Cas to even hear his own thoughts; but it brought back memories of other times when Dean had played music this loud. The times when he had been angry or upset and didn't want anyone to hear, or when he and Castiel were fighting and they didn't want to cause more trouble by worrying Sam or pissing off John. Or when they were being other kinds of loud and wanted to block out their sounds and the rest of the world.

Castiel closed the door behind himself as he stepped into Dean's room and taking in the mess, the bundle of sheets on the bed, the pillow and broken lamp lying on the floor next to the bed, then his eyes landed on Dean again who was back at his desk, sitting with his back half-turned to Cas.

“Hello,” he mumbled, not really knowing what else to say. God, Dean looked so tired, so ruined and disheveled and Castiel just wanted to hug him and apologize, even thought he wasn't sure he'd done anything wrong. “Could you turn down the music, please?” Castiel asked loudly and took a step closer to where Dean was sitting. Although he had planned to ask him about the phone, more important thoughts seemed to slip into his mind and from his mouth first.

“Dean are you alright?”

After twisting a button on the CD player on his desk, Dean grabbed a pencil and started playing with it, shrugging and huffing out a chuckle at Cas' question before turning to give him a strained smile. “Oh yeah,” he said and leaned back in the chair. “I'm fine. Great, actually.”

Castiel rolled his eyes at Dean, ignoring the feeling of being punched in the chest when Dean lied to him.

“Anyway. How're you?” Dean asked, not looking at Cas directly.

“I'm _fine,_ ” Castiel bit back. If Dean could lie, so could he.

“Yeah okay. Sorry for asking.”

“I only stopped by to ask you if you've gotten a new phone yet,” he asked sort of awkwardly with a shrug. He still felt the tension between them, almost as if they were on bad terms, even though Dean had kissed him yesterday. It was almost tangible, and it made him anxious, so he couldn't just sit down or anything, in case he needed to get out of there quickly.

“It's been a day, cut me some slack,” Dean sighed. “When would I have the time for that?” He wiped a hand across his face before adding, “I'll look into it this week, alright?”

“Alright.”

And just like that, the awkward silence was back again. Dean's eyes moved between the open book and papers on his desk, and flitted quickly over at Cas before he turned his eyes away again. Castiel narrowed his own eyes at him, wondering why Dean was so adamant at avoiding to look at him. Perhaps it had something to do with what happened at the lake. Most likely, that was the case. Dean had left in a rush, after all, of course he didn't want to confront Cas or be forced to think about all of that now.

“Well, then...” Castiel said with a small huff and took a step back. “I'll leave you to it. Get some rest. I'll see you in school.”

“See ya,” Dean muttered back, his face buried in whatever school work he had been distracting himself with before, and Castiel went back downstairs.

“All done?” Anna asked when Castiel appeared in the hallway again. He gave his sister a quick nod. “Good. I'm hungry. Let's go home and eat something.”

Anna pulled the door open after saying goodbye to Sam. Castiel stopped in the door and turned to him.

“Look after your brother, Sam.”

When they left, Cas was feeling slightly worse than before, if that was even possible.

***

Seeing Dean study had reminded Castiel that he also had some homework he should probably be working on, but at the same time a feeling in his gut told him that keeping up with school this semester would probably be a lot more difficult than usual, especially now that he had so much else spinning around in his mind, things that occupied his thoughts and kept him from being able to focus on school.

Gabriel came by from college that afternoon. He brought pizza and they all sat together at the kitchen table, eating and talking, catching up on each others lives. It made Castiel feel a little better, but he was still bitter about Dean. He wanted them to be friends, but most of all he wanted Dean to be happy. At this point, those two didn't seem to go hand in hand.

After dinner, he finished up his homework, then he spent the rest of his free time surfing around on the internet, trying to entertain himself. It didn't work, and he ended up looking at old photos of him and Dean (which definitely didn't make things better). Eventually, Castiel just went to bed, exhausted and feeling heartbroken all over again.

When Thursday came around, Castiel woke up first for once. He put on the coffee and poured a cup for himself and Anna, moved around the house with ease as he made himself ready for school. Despite the heavy feeling in his chest the days before, Castiel was feeling good and happy, and it made Anna visibly happier too when she joined him and they walked to school together.

Castiel was standing by his locker, reading a text message from Balthazar that he had received on the way to school.

_'Cassie. No hard feelings, but I've met someone else and I just want it to be clear that I am no longer interested in you. Seeing how you're still so hung up on Losechester, things just couldn't work out between us. It was nice while it lasted. X Balth'_

It was like he had woken up in bizarroland. Typically Balthazar to project the situation onto Cas. _Asshole._

He scoffed quietly at his phone, frowning hard before deleting the message. He knew Balthazar probably wrote it to hurt him, and Castiel wished it hadn't worked. They weren't even dating, and Castiel definitely didn't have any romantic feelings or anything left over for Balthazar – just like he said, he was still hung up on Dean – so why did it hurt so much to be rejected? Why couldn't he just shrug this off like it was nothing? More importantly; why did everyone keep leaving him? First Gabriel fucked off to college, then Dean broke up with him – rightfully so – but still (and disappeared completely), and now not even fucking Balthazar wanted anything to do with him. There had to be something wrong with him, something he did subconsciously to push these people away.  
“Mornin'.”

Castiel jumped a little when he felt a hand on his shoulder, quickly tucking his phone back into his pocket.

“ _Dean,_ ” Castiel said before even turning around to face him. He could recognize his voice anywhere. “You scared me.”

Dean shrugged his shoulders in what Castiel assumed to be an apologetic way. Castiel grabbed the books he needed for class and shut his locker.

“Good morning to you too. What do you want?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. Being scared first thing in the morning wasn't exactly at the top of Castiel's favorite things.

“Just thought I'd say hi,” Dean said with a small frown.

“Oh, alright. Hi.” Castiel offered Dean the briefest of smiles, but it was shallow and disappeared from his lips faster than it had showed.

“You okay, buddy?”

Dean's question caught Cas off guard, and the ground seemed to waver underneath his feet. He knew he was just imagining it, but that didn't stop the seasickness he slowly felt rising up inside of him.

“Yes,” Cas muttered and squinted at Dean. Why was he acting so nice and concerned suddenly? Either way, Castiel didn't feel like indulging him, and he didn't feel like talking about feelings and stuff, especially not today, _definitely_ not with Dean. Not right now anyway, not in the middle of the school hallway. “I'm fine. Why? Is there something wrong with my appearance?”

Castiel raised his eyebrows at Dean, who actually looked him over before giving him a small shake of his head.

“No man. All good.”

When the bell broke through the loud chatter and noise of the corridors, Castiel almost let out a sigh of relief.

“Sorry. I'm gonna be late,” he said before turning around quickly and being out of Dean's way and sight within a few seconds, hurrying off to his first class.

Cas couldn't concentrate at all, but what else was new. He shared his first class with Anna, who sat down next to him instead of with Rachel like she usually did. She was concerned, of course, because of everything that had happened in the short amount of time and how it affected him. The day had started so well, Cas had been in such a good mood. It was strange to his sister that he showed up with a deep frown on his face. All through class, Castiel kept glancing over his shoulder, looking around the room, searching for a familiar pair of eyes or a head full of ash-blonde hair.

“He's not here, Cas,” Anna whispered to him. “Inias told Rachel that Balthazar called in sick this morning. Obviously that's a lie, he's probably just skipping, but you don't have to worry.”

Castiel snorted, it was so typical Balthazar. He could be such a coward sometimes.

“Actually, you _shouldn't_ worry. I don't understand why you still give a crap about that douchebag.”

This caught Castiel's attention.

“I don't, and I'm not worried,” he said to his sister. “I'm curious. Why would he stay home from school? To avoid me? Why? He was the one who sent that egocentric text message.”

“Don't you get it?”

“Get what?”

“You boys can be so damn dumb sometimes,” Anna grumbled with a sigh, writing something down in her notebook when the teacher mentioned something of importance.

Castiel didn't speak more to Anna, or Rachel, or Inias for that matter, afraid that anything he said could push them away too. It tore him apart inside, he felt so alone and it was in a moment like that he would have needed Dean.

The day kept passing in a blur of classes and faces and then lunch break finally came around and students filled the hallways for a brief moment before clearing out again as people headed towards cafeteria or the quad.

In lack of better things to do, Castiel had decided to leave school, to go home and sleep and fully commit to the shitty student stereotype, but when he caught a glance of Dean and Jo on his way to the exit, backpack already slung over his shoulder and all, he changed his mind. With determination in his step, Castiel walked over to where they were standing, his eyes fixed on Dean.

“Hey, Castiel! What's cookin'?”

Jo turned to him with a smile that lit up her entire face.

Castiel contemplated her question for a moment, his eyes drifting down to their feet and then back up again, and he moved his arms awkwardly.

“Nothing,” he said, frowning. “Dean I need to talk to you,” Castiel said, throwing Jo a quick glance.

“Sure, Cas, what's going on?” Dean asked.

“Why were you nice to me this morning?” Castiel asked, narrowing his eyes at Dean. Something had felt off about the way Dean had sneaked up on him.

“Why? Can't a guy be nice for no reason nowadays? Is that not something old me used to do or what?”

“That's irrelevant. Why are you pretending like nothing happened on the pier?! Clearly, you were upset, or else you wouldn't have stormed off like you did, and now you're acting like everything is fine between us, like you have _no idea_ how that felt when you did that.”

Dean shifted his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other, his eyes shifting from Castiel to Jo.

“Uh, Cas–“

“Do you have any idea what it felt like to watch you get up and leave me, _again?_ ”

Meanwhile, Jo closer her locker with an impressive subtlety, or maybe that was because the ringing in Castiel's ears was so loud that he couldn't hear anything but it, and took a step around them.

“Alrighty, I'll leave you guys to it, then.” Jo said with a half smile, raising her eyebrows as in surprise to Dean before she disappeared down the hallway.

Dean raised his hands in defense. “Cas, look–“ he tried, but Castiel held up his finger threateningly, pointing it towards his face.

“No, you look. You don't get to do that. You don't get to act like everything is alright when it isn't. You don't get to play with my feelings and experiment with me like my feelings are just some kind of side effect.”

Dean took a step forward, jaw clenched and eyebrows tight, until Castiel's finger was poking him right in the chest.

“And what about me?” Dean asked loudly. “Huh? I don't count? Why don't you put me and what I might feel into your little consideration. Or does that not mean squat to you? Man, I don't even know you, Cas! You keep showing me different sides of yourself but you haven't given me a solid try to get to know you, you just accuse me of a bunch of bullshit that I can't even begin to understand and you dump all of your emotional baggage on me. How's that fair? How can you hold me responsible for hurting you when I don't even remember being that person?”

If it hadn't been lunch period, more than two people would have witnessed their argument and the way Castiel's finger against Dean's chest had turned into a fist. He was holding Dean's t-shirt balled up in his hand as they stared into each others eyes, just waiting for someone to take the first punch or do _something_.

Dean's words had hurt, but it was only like pouring fuel to an already burning flame. Castiel felt like exploding. He wanted to ruin Dean the way Dean had ruined him. But he could never bring himself to do so, and from what Dean had said, it sounded like he'd already put enough weight on his shoulders as it was.

“I'm sorry, Dean,” Castiel said.

He loosened his fist just as Dean pushed his arm away in anger.

“Damn it, Cas!” He growled and turned around in a whip before smashing his fist into one of the lockers, the loud sound bouncing against the walls.

Apparently certain things never changed.

Castiel watched as Dean clenched and unclenched his hand, moving his fingers. His knuckles were red and sore, slowly bruising.

“We should get you to the nurse.”

“To hell with the nurse!”

Castiel sighed.

“Dean, at least let me–“ Castiel started, but Dean cut him off.

“ _No._ Leave me alone. If you're not gonna help me figure out who I am or who I was, whatever, just leave me alone. Let me find out the rest on my own.”

Dean pushed past Castiel with a huff, leaving him feeling hollower than before. Part of him told him to swallow it down, ignore that aching, chewing feeling that dug deep into his bones. It wasn't fair to feel like that because of Dean, Castiel reminded himself. He felt like he deserved it, the blame and the guilt. But at the same time he was hauling insults at Dean in his mind.

He would give Dean some time to try it on his own if he wanted that. Castiel could give him space. But he would always be there for Dean again if he ever needed him to be.

***

Days passed as weeks turned into months and the seasons changed in Lawrence, Kansas. But for Castiel, most things stayed the same. Unlike the summer and the start of the school year, which had been a roller coaster of dramatic turn of events that gave him some kind of emotional whiplash, the autumn months had gone by slowly, and without much change. He went to school, did the least he had to do to pass his classes, he spent time with his friends and family, he went to parties every now and then just to let them all know he wasn't depressed again – because he wasn't – (there's a difference between depression and indifference, at least Castiel told himself that), and he partook in the gossip and chitchats during lunch.

He still spent time with Dean sometimes, but rarely alone. Usually, one or more of their mutual friends were with them. When they were by themselves, they never spoke of what had happened at the lake. Dean hadn't had any more memories come back to him, or if he had, he hadn't told Castiel about them.

“What's your favorite color?” Dean asked him one time. It was a Saturday and they were sitting under the big tree on the school quad. It was empty except for them. The huge area was eerie without all the students making it come to life.

Castiel turned his eyes up to the few browning leaves left on the branches overhead, barely keeping the strong, low October sunbeams away. The rest had fallen to the grass, covering the damp ground like a carpet in different shades of orange and yellow.

“Green is nice,” he said after a moment's consideration, sighing slightly to himself.

“Ain't much of that around now though, is it,” Dean said with a huff, grabbing a handful of crispy leaves and threw them up in the air.

Castiel watched as the wind grabbed a hold of them and played with them before they fell back down to the ground. Then he glanced at Dean who was busy wiping his hand off on his jeans.

“There is some,” Castiel finally said when Dean looked up at him again and their eyes met.

***

“It's for you,” Anna said when she entered the kitchen where Castiel was sitting, or more like half-leaning over the kitchen island, his head resting on his arms.

Not two minutes ago, someone had rung their door bell, and Anna had disappeared from the kitchen to get the door. It was just after ten on a rainy, grey November morning, way too early for anyone to be visiting, in Castiel's opinion.

“Who is it this early?” Castiel groaned and took his time before he stood up, rubbing his tired eyes in an attempt to get the sleep out of them.

Anna grabbed a clean cup from the sink and walked over to the coffeemaker.

“Why don't you go see for yourself?” she suggested as she poured coffee into the cup, her back turned to her brother.

Castiel let out something of a mix between a sigh and a grunt, but pushed himself off the island and dragged his feet out into the hallway.

The stone floors were icy from the wind that was being let in from outside. He rubbed his arms as he approached the door and then pulled it open.

“Hi, Cas.” Dean was standing there as if the past six months hadn't happened, looking as good as ever, despite the miserable weather and the time of the day.

“Dean,” Castiel held the door open, shuddering a little at the way the cold was biting at his body.

Without as much as asking first, Dean stepped inside. “That's me,” he said and pursed his lips as he walked further into the hallway and curiously looked around the room, leaving wet foot prints behind himself on the floor.

“Welcome, I guess,” Castiel said as he walked after him, stopping near the entrance to the downstairs living room.

“Wow,” Dean mumbled and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, nodding a little to himself with a pleased look on his face, almost as if he was confirming something in his mind. “Nice place.”

“Thank you – why are you here?” Castiel stepped up close to Dean when he didn't receive an answer right away. He studied him closely, tried to understand what had brought Dean to his house at ten in the morning on a weekend. Not that Dean wasn't an early riser – in Castiel's experience, Dean didn't have much of a problem getting up early, even on weekends and after partying. He was far more of a morning person than Cas had ever been, which was why he was the one who currently looked halfway to death.

Dean didn't seem to be able to meet Castiel's eyes, instead he was still looking around the living room, probably thinking he was subtly checking Cas' place out, but in all honesty, it was obvious that he was avoiding Castiel's eyes and the question he had asked him.

When a wrinkle had appeared and settled between Dean's eyebrows, and he must have had his jaw clenched for at least a whole five seconds, Castiel stepped around to face him.

“You're upset,” Castiel confronted, cutting to the chase.

Dean's eyes flitted across the room again, but Castiel's intense look seemed to press him, and he shifted awkwardly on the spot.

“I was uh, I wanted to go see Mom,” Dean mumbled eventually, pausing to lick his lips. He glanced at the floor before tentatively looking up at Castiel again. “I don't think I can do it, Cas.”

“Dean–“ Castiel tried, but Dean cut him off, continuing.

“I asked Sammy to come with, but he's got his girl now and I get that, and I don't think he's too keen on bringin' Jess to the cemetery. Bringing Jo or Benny or any of the others would just be... It wouldn't be right.” Dean rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and stressed his bottom lip between his teeth. He looked so small in that moment, his somewhat glassy eyes unable to focus on anything in particular. Small and lost and all alone. Dean cleared his throat, the sound wavering slightly. “Today's the day she, uh...”

Castiel didn't even have to check the date or the calendar to know it was November 2nd, he had made the connection the moment Dean started talking about visiting his dead mother.

“I'll go with you,” he said, not missing a beat.

“Cas,” Dean's voice came out with an exhale, something tense visibly letting go of his shoulders.

Castiel gave him a small smile. “I mean... I went with you to the cemetery before. Last year,” he explained.

Dean nodded and took a breath. Then he shrugged, seemingly shaking all the bad thoughts that came with the plan of visiting the cemetery off, and started talking about other things. “Could you tell me? About that time – or about you, us, anything really so I don't have to think about _that_ day?” he asked.

“Of course,” Castiel mumbled, taking Dean's hand and giving it a squeeze. “I'll tell you.”

On the way to the cemetery, Castiel told Dean all he could remember about the times they had gone to see Mary. He even told Dean about when he went there by himself, after their breakup. It felt more natural now than before, retelling history to Dean, it wasn't as hard. Today it felt good, like it made a difference. Castiel never met or knew Mary, but somehow he knew that she would appreciate that and that he was doing the right thing.

They sat by her grave for an hour. Dean tended to the grave and removed the old flowers, replacing them with new ones he had brought with him. Castiel helped by cleaning off the headstone, and then they sat in silence after lighting a few candles.

Dean was crying. Cas could tell, because he saw the way his knuckles were clenched white by his side. Castiel could feel his own eyes watering as well, but he swore to himself he had to be strong for Dean.

“I miss her,” Dean said after a while, wiping his wet eyes with his hands.

“I know,” Cas said quietly and placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. He thought about saying something about being able to relate, but it wasn't the right time, and frankly, Dean losing his memory and partly disappearing from Cas' life wasn't the same as if he had died. If Dean could choose, he would definitely rather have Mary alive and amnesiac than not alive at all, Cas was sure.

“Y'know, sometimes I forget the sound of her voice. I look at her picture almost every day, but her _voice_. Dad's old tape recordings aren't the same, I mean they're alright, but kinda distorted. I'd give anything to hear her voice again, even if she yelled at me, or anything.”

Dean chuckled, then suddenly reached forward and grabbed the roses off her grave, angrily throwing them away across the cemetery. Castiel watched as they landed in a bush somewhere across a pathway.

“Why did you do that?” he asked, the hand resting on Dean's shoulder tensed slightly.

“She'd hate them anyway. Didn't feel right. It was the only thing cheap enough I could find at the store.”

Thinking back on the last time Castiel had gone with Dean to Mary's grave, he remembered that Dean had brought a mishmash of flowers Dean and him had stolen from their own and their neighbors' gardens. Tulips, daffodils, dahlias and wild roses – none of those cut, clean, store-bough types that came in an already done bouquet. The second time Castiel had been there, when he had gone alone, he had cut some branches of the nearby bushes and created a beautiful bed of green that he had later placed dandelions on, and another small, blue flower he found growing nearby.

“Dean.”

Castiel stood up and held out his hand for Dean to take when he turned to him.

“I might have an idea,” he said as Dean grabbed his hand and Castiel pulled him to his feet. “Come on, I'll show you.”

He should have probably let go of Dean's hand then, should have let go of it the moment Dean was on his two feet. But for some reason, Castiel held on to his hand and led Dean across the pathway and through the bushes, leading the way into a small meadow between trees near the edge of the cemetery where he had plucked the blue flowers only months before.

It was a long shot, since it was the beginnings of November, that they would still be growing, let alone in bloom; but when Castiel ducked his head under a low tree branch and pulled Dean along onto the small patch of grass where he had first found the flowers in late May, a couple of them were still standing there, tall in the grass and around the bushes.

“Oh wow,” Dean said, his hand slipping effortlessly out of Castiel's hand as he knelt down to cup his hands around a few flowers. “I know these.”

Castiel squatted down near the ground and joined him, lingering shoulder-to-shoulder next to Dean and closely watched the small flowers as Dean pulled them from their roots.

“You do?” he asked quietly, narrowing his eyes.

“Yeah, we used to have some of these growing in the backyard. At least I think it's the same.”

Now Castiel recognized them too, and not only for putting some of them on Mary's grave once before, but he wasn't sure. It might have been another flower, one that looked similar.

“Here, hold these,” Dean handed a bunch of flowers to Cas without looking at him and immediately started plucking several more. There wasn't a lot of them, it was amazing that any had survived until autumn at all, though most of them were looking ragged and damp, half dying already.

“Mom used to keep some on the kitchen table, in this small glass vase,” Dean handed the last of the flowers to Castiel and proceeded to wipe his hands on his jeans. A crinkle appeared between his eyebrows and he quieted, his eyes going dull for a brief moment. A single stem with flowers was left between his feet. “Forget-me-not, I think they're called.”

Something heavy dropped in Castiel's chest.

Dean still had that hard-set look on his face, eyes focused on the single flower he'd missed, the one between his feet. He reached for it and held it in his hand for a few seconds before finally turning to Castiel with a crooked smile on his lips.

“She used to do this,” Dean said, voice small but thick with nostalgia as he pulled some leaves from the stem and then held the flower up close to Castiel's face before gently placing it behind his ear. “She'd place the flower here, like this, and she'd tell me that we'd never forget each other.”

Castiel's heart trashed around inside of his chest, throbbing so hard against his ribcage that he worried it was going to burst out right through it. He recognized the flower because Dean had done that to him before, one silly evening just weeks before they broke up. He'd told Cas that exact same story about Mary and the way she would put a flower in Dean's hair when he was little, and then he'd delicately pulled a flower from their garden and done the same to Cas.

_“You know what flower this is?”_

_“Blue viola?” Castiel asked, rolling his eyes. Honestly, he had no idea, but he would probably have put some effort in if it wasn't for the fact that he was blushing really hard and his mind was preoccupied with other things._

_“Tss. Nah, I know you're better than that. But alright I'll give you a pass this once,”_ Dean had said and poked him in the chest. _“They're Forget-me-not's. According to the myth, some knight picked all these blue flowers for his chick, but then he fell into a nearby river and drowned. But as he fell, he threw the flowers to her and yelled 'Forget me not', and that's how they got their name. Apparently they symbolize faithful love and memories.”_

_“I'm impressed. I never took you for such a botanist.”_

_“Shut up. I read.”_

_“I know you do.”_

_They sat in the damp grass and drank each other in. Castiel relished in Dean's presence, he loved it when they had moments like these. Quiet, soft, gentle moments where words didn't need to be spoken. They had each other and the world was still._

_“Looks good on you. Brings the crazy blue out of your eyes.”_

_“Crazy? I'm not sure that's appropriate.”_

_“Uh-huh. As in I want to do crazy things with you.”_

_“Of course you do.”_

_They had laughed and sat like that for a while until the dark had drowned almost all the colors from the world. Then Dean had cupped Cas' face and the kisses they shared felt like they would last a lifetime._

Castiel's face was flushed and he had to blink a few times to get rid of the memory that played on repeat in his mind. He could almost taste Dean's lips on his own.

When he finally met Dean's eyes again, Castiel noticed they were different, the green was glassy with watery tears that had yet to leave his eyes.

“Forget it,” Dean said with a dark chuckle and snatched the flower from Castiel's hair, dropping the broken thing back on the grass. “It was stupid. Sorry.”

“Dean,” Castiel tried, leaning down on his knees when Dean ignored him. “ _Dean._ ”

“What? I messed up again, okay? Just like at the lake. What d'ya want me to say?”

Now it was Castiel's turn to frown. “What? No. It's not that. Not at all.”

“Then what is it?”

“You've done this to me before,” Castiel said and absentmindedly grabbed Dean's hands, maybe in an attempt to reassure him that he wasn't uncomfortable or upset with him. “Told me the story, about your mother and the flowers,” Castiel spoke slowly and reached to grab the discarded flower. It was limp in his fingers, bending unnaturally and at least one petal had fallen off when Dean had torn it from his hair. Castiel tried his best to put it back behind his ear. He probably looked ridiculous,with the sad, slack flower hanging there, but he didn't care. It was important to him that Dean knew, that he understood how much the gesture meant to him. “And you placed a flower in my hair, and we promised we would never forget each other, no matter if we'd grow apart or the world tried to separate us in any way.”

Castiel hadn't noticed it before, but Dean was rubbing his thumbs in small, soft circles on the back of his hands.

“Hey Cas,” Dean asked, licking his lips, his eyes bouncing between the grass and the flowers in Castiel's lap before landing on his face.

“Yes, Dean?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

For a moment, Castiel was certain Dean would change his mind and just grab the flowers, tell Cas that they better finish fixing up Mary's grave before it got dark, or something. But not even that imagination held up realistically seeing as it was barely noon, and darkness wouldn't fall in hours. Though Dean was clearly hesitating, holding back whatever sentence he had wanted to get out, probably going over it a million times in his mind. Castiel could practically see the wheels turning behind those beautiful green eyes, so full of courage and thoughtfulness.

Finally, Dean freed one of his hands from Cas' to rub the back of his neck.

“Are you still upset? About what went down at the lake?”

It was a complex question, one that took Castiel with surprise. Part of him had hoped that Dean would choose to ignore everything about what had happened at the lake. Another part of him had just waited for Dean to bring it up.

“I'm not upset,” he answered honestly, shrugging his shoulders. He hadn't let it go either, but he couldn't say that he was upset about it anymore. He'd tried to push past it, waste his energy and thoughts on other things.

“Alright. Good.” Dean sighed. “Sorry 'bout leaving you like that. I just... uh, I dunno. I freaked.”

“I understand.” He didn't, not really. They'd gone through it once before, he couldn't imagine the idea of going through it again. The freaking out phase. The holy-shit-my-best-friend-is-really-great-and-hot-and-I-just-want-to-kiss-him phase. The _fuck_ -I-just-kissed-my-friend-I-probably-messed-it-all-up phase.

Dean's grip on the hand he was still holding got tighter, and he shook his head, letting out a chuckle.

“No, you don't.” Dean fixed his eyes on Castiel this time, none of those avoiding, stressed flying looks of his eyes anymore. “You think I had a big, bi crisis? No. I've had months to process this. It's cool. I ran because I knew, I knew you'd be hurt and pissed off. I might not know you like I used to, but during the months I _have_ known you, you've made quite an impression.”

“You're saying you left because of me?”

“Not to boost your ego or anything, Taylor Swift, but yeah. I screwed up. Honestly I don't know why I left. I just did.”

 _Because you care,_ Castiel thought to himself. _Because your heart will always be made of gold, and no matter what state your mind is in, you will always take the blame and suffer in silence and chew over things because you still believe you deserve to feel like crap._

Dean had been through so much. He'd lost so much; more than Castiel could ever begin to understand, and he still took the blame for petty little things that he shouldn't have to carry around. If anyone deserved to feel like crap, it was Castiel. He'd been nothing but selfish this entire time. And sure, maybe he hadn't meant to be selfish, and maybe he felt like he deserved to be selfish and sad, but Dean still deserved so much better. He deserved the world.

“Um,” Castiel started, but closed his mouth again and cleared his throat. He wanted to say something nice to Dean, apologize or maybe thank him. He wasn't sure what for, exactly, but he didn't have time to think before Dean caught his eyes.

It was so difficult for Cas to read Dean sometimes. Dean was looking at him with the most peculiar look in his eyes, as if he was trying to figure something out too, his eyes a little vacant, distant. Then suddenly, Dean chuckled and reached his hand out and adjusted the flower in Castiel's hair, mumbling something about it being askew, his fingers still awkwardly lingering close to Castiel's face. Meanwhile, Castiel felt like he was starting to glow, as if his soul was slowly pushing out of him and reaching towards Dean, making his cheeks and neck blush in the process.

“So, uh, about the dramatic showdown by the lockers a couple weeks ago,” Dean said quietly, tentatively moving his hand down to rest on Castiel's shoulder.

“What about it?” Castiel asked, his breaths coming out slow and heavy, anxious and excited both at once, though he wasn't sure why he felt the latter.

Dean shrugged, pursing his lips slightly. “You really put me in my place, didn't you? So I thought I'd better ask first this time, 'cause I don't exactly feel like getting my ass handed to me, or y'know, since we're here, have to dig my own grave. Pun totally intended.”

“Dean. What did you want to ask me?” Castiel could hear his pulse in his ears, and the hand on his shoulder seemed so, so heavy.

“Can I, uh...” Dean trailed off, his eyes dropping slightly, a glance landing near the lower half of Cas' face.

“Yes.”

Strange how the world could shrink and become nothing in a moment like that, how the birds and the general noise from people and nature disappeared in a beat. All it took was for Dean to lean closer, for his hand to travel somewhat from Castiel's shoulder to the crook of his neck, and then their lips crashed against each other, impatient, anxious, thirsty.

Castiel went from zero to a thousand in a split second, filling up with hope, blissfulness and _home_. Everything was Dean, Dean, _Dean_ , and he ignored the way his jeans dampened at his knees when he leaned closer to him, the wet grass and ground clinging to his legs.

It was nothing like the kiss at the lake. This time they both wanted it so much. They kissed slowly at first, Dean properly testing the way his lips fit against Cas' for the first time, Castiel letting him take his time, meeting every one of his kisses and savoring them. He reached for Dean's waist when he felt the soft press of his tongue against the seam of his lips, wanting to be closer to him when they deepened the kiss. Dean tasted faintly of coffee.

Castiel broke away first, anxious that things were maybe moving too quickly, despite the small voice in his head that screamed at him for doing so, screaming at him that both of them had waited _so long_ for this, they'd both wanted this for so long. Dean chased after his mouth the moment they were apart, placing a kiss at the corner of it and Castiel laughed.

Dean looked ravishing. One of his hands were still resting on the side of Castiel's face. It took everything Cas had to keep himself in control when Dean ran his thumb down to touch his lips.

“Your flower fell off,” Dean said a moment later, first to break the silence.

Castiel glanced down next to them where indeed the flower that had been in his hair was now nestled between tall strands of grass.

“I remembered,” Dean continued. “About what you told me, that we'd done this before. I only saw it in my mind, you know, like a memory. I couldn't remember what kissing you – I mean, _really_ kissing you, felt like.”

Oh. That was what happened when Dean stared at him like that. Another piece of the giant puzzle that was his mind returning. Another splash of color on the canvas.

“So, what did it feel like?”

Dean glanced upwards and pursed his lips, humming to himself. “I think we did pretty good,” he said after a moment of contemplating it.

Castiel rolled his eyes and groaned. Some things just never changed, did they?

“You're an ass,” he said and let out something between a laugh and a sigh. Dean only grinned at him.

Mixed feelings filled Castiel when they walked back to Mary's grave together. They had only left to get flowers, and somehow returned with so much more than just that. Still, he wasn't sure what it meant, if Dean had only kissed him because he was curious, because he wanted to fulfill the memory and get a better picture of his past, or if he was genuinely interested in kissing Castiel more, soon? Because Castiel was very much up to that idea. Though that discussion would have to wait.

They were both quiet when they knelt down at Mary's grave. Castiel handed Dean the flowers and he placed them on her headstone and below it. It didn't look perfect or spectacular, but it was beautiful and although Cas never met or knew Dean's mother, he was sure that she would have loved it.

“Looks alright... right?” Dean asked when he stood up and took in the scene.

“It's beautiful, Dean,” Castiel said, seeing how Dean wiped his thumb and index finger against his eyes again. Silently, Cas slipped his hand into Dean's.

“Come on, let's get going,” Dean said after a moment, pulling his hand from Cas' and turning abruptly, heading to the parking lot outside the cemetery. Castiel walked with him, but didn't pressure Dean. He knew he needed space, to process everything. Visiting your parent's grave wasn't exactly easy, and then there was the other thing on top of that.

In the car, the silence was almost tangible, suffocating.

“Um, are you sure you're–“ Castiel squinted at Dean and the way he was white-knuckling the wheel, his eyes fixed on a spot somewhere in the horizon. They still hadn't moved from the spot in the parking lot.

“I'm fine, Cas,” Dean said harshly, then quickly sighed and added; “I'm... sorry. It's just a lot, you know?”

Castiel nodded.

“So, uh... Do you want to go back to my place and get some grub or something? I'm starving.”

***

During the two years or so that Castiel had known Dean, he had been fortunate to not have to interact with John more than a few times when they had either run into each other at the house, or it had been absolutely necessary for them to be in the same room together; which, thankfully, almost never happened. After a few particularly nasty run-ins with John, Castiel stopped going through the front door whenever he went over to Dean's, and started climbing the big old tree directly up to his room instead.

Neither of them expected John to be home, much less awake, when Dean finally turned the car up onto the driveway. His truck was still there, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Sometimes he walked, other times he carpooled with a colleague from the auto shop where he worked a couple of days a week, so neither Dean or Cas thought much of it when they made their way up to the front door and stepped inside.

Immediately, they were met with a loud, rough voice coming through the wall.

“Dean! That you, son?”

Dean gave Castiel a look that either said _wait here_ or _now what?_ before almost instinctively replying “Yessir.”

They hadn't even faced John yet, but it was already as if Dean's entire demeanor and posture changed. As if he was subconsciously preparing for battle or some kind of trouble, carefully putting that perfect armor back on nice and tight. The armor that John had put him and made him scared to take off. Of course, by now, years later, the armor wasn't as perfect as John had intended it to be. It didn't help at all. It was dented, broken in places, too heavy to carry. Castiel knew, because Dean had told him, and he'd seen it with his own eyes. Dean was worried to let his guard down around his father, scared that whatever metaphorical or physical blow was coming would hurt tenfold unless he braced himself before.

“Why dontcha come in here and have a word with me?” John called out, the longer sentence allowing the thick slur in his voice to slip through.

“It's five PM somewhere in the world,” Dean mumbled quietly when Castiel gave him a look, and then they walked through the hallway and into the kitchen together where John's voice had come from.

John was slumped in one of the chairs at the table, his back turned towards the entrance.

“Where you been, boy?” he asked when Dean stepped into the kitchen, and took a swig from a bottle with what Castiel assumed to be beer.

“Just out. Around.”

The two sets of steps must have caught John's attention, because he turned his head half to his shoulder, barely glancing at where they were standing as if to get just a glimpse of Castiel to confirm they had been out together.

“With _him_?” It wasn't really a question. John scoffed.

Dean walked around the table as if John's words and attitude had run off him like water on a goose, and picked up one of the few empty bottles and cans littered on the table.

“Are we celebrating something?” he asked in a mock curious tone, both eyebrows raised and lips pursed. “Glad to see you're enjoying yourself today.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean, his heart beating like a drum in his chest. He knew Dean was out on thin ice, talking back to his father like this.

“Dean–“ Castiel tried, wanting to get him out of there, make him stop talking before both of them got in trouble.

“You know god damn well what day today is!” John yelled and slammed the bottle down so hard in the table that it was a wonder it didn't break.

Dean didn't even flinch, all too used to living around chaos.

“Exactly, so why do you have to ruin it by getting yourself wasted? You might as well take a stroll down to the cemetery and piss on her grave too. I'm sure she'd be real happy with how great you've done, Dad.”

Castiel could have sworn that it took John less than a second to get on his feet, the chair falling down with a loud crash behind him.

Great. Just awesome. New Dean was _definitely_ exactly like old Dean when it came to his father. Not that Cas was surprised; John had always been a tyrant and an abuser, and Dean was stubborn and could sometimes come off as self-righteous. They had to play their parts.

Castiel could have sworn that John would have exploded, that he would yell and fight and get violent in all kind of ways. But he was too smart for that, even when he was intoxicated. He knew how to hurt his sons where the real pain was, beyond the physical.

“And you?” John said, almost smiling from what Castiel could see. “You think your mother would be proud of you?”

In that moment, Castiel wanted nothing more than to get to Dean, to stand next to him and be there for him, but John was bigger than he was and blocking the way around the table in the small kitchen.

“Huh, Dean? Do you think she would be proud to have a pansy for a son, with bad grades and a miserable life? Can't even take care of your little brother.”

It wasn't fair of him to talk about Dean's mother like that. What he said didn't match up with what Dean had told Castiel about her. John knew how much Dean loved his mom, how he respected her. He knew how what he was saying would egg Dean on.

“Shut up,” Dean said, his fists clenched by his sides.

“The only good thing that came out of that car crash was you finally getting a clean slate and getting your head screwed back on the right way again, none of that bullshit you had going on with him and his kind. That's right, did you think I didn't know about you two?” This time, John nodded his head towards Castiel when he spoke. Castiel wanted to jump up and claw his way over his back, pull his eyes out far with his bare fingers and strangle him with the rectus muscle like a cord.

“ _Fuck you_ , it's always been on the right way. Unlike yours, you backwards piece of shit!”

Castiel could never have made a sentence like that sound as eloquent as it did coming out of Dean's mouth. It sounded as if he had been practicing for years and knew it by heart, and to be honest, he probably did, for all Cas knew.

What Castiel could do, though, was punch John in the side of the throat when he raised his arm up, causing him to stumble sideways, and thereby making way for Dean to escape around him and successfully avoid a beat down.

“That was insane,” Dean said, out of breath, with a wild look in his eyes when they walked up to Castiel's house, after practically running all the way from the Winchester's house, laughing as if the situation hadn't been real close to becoming serious. “The way you landed that punch? Man, you gotta come by and do that more often. Might teach the old man a thing or two.”

“I'd rather not,” Castiel said and clenched his hand, his muscles still pulsing. “End up in a fight with your father, I mean,” he added quickly when he noticed the shocked look on Dean's face. “I don't mind being at your house.”

“Alright. Well just so you know, you're welcome over anytime, buddy. Tree or not.”

“It's probably better to take the tree. At least for a while.”

“Probably.”

They entered the house laughing, and Castiel promptly ignored the curious and strange look his sister gave him as they disappeared up the stairs to his room.

In his room, Castiel barely made it inside before he was turning around and heading for the doorway again to go get food for the both of them. He'd left Dean alone in his room and told him to make himself comfortable. It was strange, having him over again, but this time Dean would have to learn everything about Castiel's room and house again. Cas would have to tell him all the stories about his things, all about his family, and so much more.

As he was heating up leftovers from the night before, something nice and warm settled in his chest. This time, he would take things slow, tell Dean the negative aspects of his family rather than let Dean find out the ugly way. He would be more careful when he told him about his life before they moved to Lawrence, be more detailed, not rush through it. Maybe some things would come back to Dean's memory as they got to know each other better, but all in all, it made Castiel excited. He'd gotten a second chance. They both had.

“You should get this fixed,” Dean said when Castiel came back into his room holding two plates of steaming hot food right from the microwave. Dean was holding the picture of them, the one taken before the concert, with the broken glass that originally belonged to Dean.

“Why?” Castiel asked, setting the plates down, taking the photo from Dean to look at it. He ran a finger over the shattered glass, knowing very well that he could accidentally slice his finger on it if he wasn't careful. “I like it this way. It's more like us.”

“You're kidding. Our faces aren't even right because of the cracks.”

“I meant it's broken. So are we.”

Castiel told Dean about the before while they ate. Dean had noticed a postcard on his desk signed _N. Milton_ and gotten curious, so Cas told him all about growing up in New England and being able to see the ocean whenever he wanted, about cold winters, and other things he both missed sometimes but was glad to be away from. _N_ stood for Naomi, his aunt. He'd mostly only kept the postcard because of the pretty picture on the front.

“You'll have to take me one day,” Dean said and put both his and Cas' empty plates on his desk.

“I've already promised you that, you just don't remember it.”

Dean grinned at him.

“Anything else I should know? Promises _I've_ made that I'm unaware of?”

“Not that I know of,” Castiel said with a shrug and rolled to his back on the bed, stretching his legs and arms out, content and full after lunch.

Dean sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Do you ever, uh, this is awkward...” Dean scratched the back of his neck, his eyes trailing away.

“You can ask me anything,” Castiel said, turning to his side to face Dean better.

“Don't you get frustrated? I mean, hanging with me all the time? I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess we had sex. How do you cope? That Balthazar guy?”

Castiel felt sweat begin to pearl in his hair and around his neck and chest. Of course he'd thought about it, sometimes, but mostly he was too down to be up for it. Literally.

“Balthazar and I never did anything,” Castiel said. “And to answer your first question... I guess I miss it sometimes. But it's not been particularly difficult.”

Dean's cheeks were already tinted in a faint pink, but he seemed to have gotten courage from somewhere, and continued, though this time with a lighter, more joking tone, like he usually did when things got serious.

“What, you saying I didn't bone you good enough or something?”

Castiel frowned, but retorted quickly.

“Who said anything about me being on the receiving end?” If Dean could be snappy in his answers, so could Cas.

Luckily this had the effect on Dean Castiel had hoped for, the pink in his skin darkening into red.

“You better not be using the fact that my memory's all gone to hell to your advantage!” Dean said, chuckling while he raised a warning finger. Castiel laughed too.

He propped himself up on his elbows. “Of course not,” he said and then sat up, squirming slightly on the spot. “Actually we, uh, we never...”

Dean almost actually gasped. “You're saying we never did it?” The way he said it, sounding like an embarrassed child finding out about what sex was for the first time, would have been hilarious if he wasn't so serious.

“Yes.”

“We never fucked?” Dean scooted closer, eyes big and curious, almost a hint of anger in them, as if he was pissed at his past self or something. “I didn't get laid?! Why, you're not some kind of prude, are you? I mean, not that there's something wrong with that, you just don't seem the type.”

“Yes you di–no, I'm, what do you mean I don't seem the type?” Castiel asked, wondering if he should be offended or not.

Dean shrugged. “I dunno. There's just something mysterious and sexy about you.”

Castiel just rolled his eyes, shaking his head a little.

“Anyway, back to where you started saying something about me getting laid?” Dean bumped his shoulder against Castiel's, prodding for more information.

Okay. They were actually going to have this talk. Castiel braced himself internally and sighed slowly before he started talking. “We could never agree on who got to be in what position,” he said and shrugged. “There was a lot of arguing, as with many things. We knew we could just switch the second time, but we both wanted to, uh, for our first time with each other...” His lips trembled as he spoke, the tiny hairs standing up all over his body, nervousness seeping into his core for some strange reason. 

Dean looked puzzled now, eyebrows tight and mouth hanging open.

Castiel wanted to give him some kind of relief, so he was sure to add; “But we did other things. Don't worry. We both got off plenty.”

Dean shook his head, holding up a hand. “Hold on.”

“Yes, Dean?”

“What position exactly were we fighting over?”

***

As the weeks and months continued to pass, Dean started spending more time over at Castiel's place rather than the opposite. John had recently been let off from his job at the garage, so neither of them – but especially Dean – liked being around his house much when John was home and drinking, which was basically every day.

Things were moving along well. Dean's memories continued to resurface one by one, tiny fragments of that short moment of life he'd once lived, and Castiel helped as much he could to fill in the blanks. It didn't take too long until other people helped trigger Dean's memories too. Mostly Jo, Pam, Benny and Sam, and a few others of Dean's friends.

Castiel thrived with Dean around and back in his life like a constant beam of light, despite being different from the old Dean. He still missed him terribly sometimes, missed talking to him without having to explain certain things, missed being able to just crawl up in his arms and kiss him like there was no tomorrow. He wished he'd done that more often. He probably _could_ crawl up in current-Dean's arms and kiss him breathless now too, but things were still too different.

They hadn't kissed since the cemetery. Not in the same way, anyway. Dean had kissed his temple once or twice, and his neck. But they hadn't made out. In fact, Castiel wasn't sure what their relationship was. He knew they weren't dating. Dean hadn't started seeing anyone new though, not as far as Castiel knew, and Cas wasn't seeing anyone either. Balthazar had gone abroad to study a year in England and live with his parents in London. At first, Castiel had been relieved, even though Balthazar had long moved on from him and found someone knew to have a crush on, and Castiel wasn't interested in him anyway. But he missed his friend and his stupid accent sometimes.

Obviously, Dean didn't get it. Not that old Dean would have either. They both disliked Balthazar.

It was around a week or so away from Dean's birthday one evening in January, and Dean was staying over at Castiel's for a few nights. John had gotten a job at some new place, but Sam was out of town at a science fair and Dean (except for being pissed off and jealous that he couldn't come with him because he wasn't in 8th grade) didn't want to be home alone with John.

They had spent most of the evening watching movies with Anna downstairs, but after the fourth old sci-fi movie came to an end, she left them to go get some sleep.

The living room was dark, only lit up by the television screen. The house was quiet except for the few creaks and squeals coming from the wood and wind.

Castiel was about to turn the TV off when Dean was suddenly leaning into him, pushing his shoulders back over the couch until he was flat on his back.

“Dean?” Castiel said breathily, his heart immediately racing in his chest. “What are you doing?”

“Hush.” In the electric flicker of lights coming from the TV, Castiel could see Dean watching him with a cocked up eyebrow and crooked smile as he started moving his hands up and down Castiel's chest, his palms splayed against his sweater.

Dean's lips glistened with saliva when he licked his lips, it reminded Castiel of the candied apples they'd bought during Christmas at the market. He wondered if Dean's lips tasted as sweet as the apples had.

“Been thinking about this, about you, since you slipped on that patch of ice outside school before winter break,” Dean said and slid his hands in under Castiel's sweater.

Castiel would have shivered at the feeling of his hands on his bare skin again after _so long_ , if it wasn't for the fact that what Dean had just said might have been one of the most unsexy things he had ever heard. He screwed up his face in confusion when he thought back on the day Dean was talking about.

They were on their way home from a long day at school. There had been a rain puddle that froze over night, and the school had put warning signs out around the big icy path, but Castiel had been too preoccupied in his mind and just walked right out on it, slipping and sliding like Bambi until he lost balance completely and fell on his ass. 

Dean had laughed so hard he cried and Jo had to give them both a lift home. Castiel because his rear was all bruised up and he could barely walk; and Dean because he was laughing so hard he almost slipped on the patch of ice himself. She'd called them dumb and mumbled something about two sides of the same coin, and finished with saying they were a walking hazard.

He didn't see what about that made Dean want to like, bang him or something. His ass probably still had bruises left somewhere.

“Why?” Castiel asked, tilting his head to the side.

“'Cause it was cute,” Dean said with a glint in his eye. “Plus I got to stare at your ass for fifteen minutes to check for any injuries.”

“That doesn't seem fair,” Castiel concluded. “I was under the impression that I was bruised and needed a check up, not a check _out_.”

Castiel folded his arms over his chest and hoped he looked serious. Honestly, he was just testing Dean, pushing his buttons for fun.

“I was joking, Cas,” Dean said and rolling his eyes dramatically.

Castiel stared at him harder.

“Okay, _fine_. I might have caught a glimpse... Does that mean I'm not allowed to kiss you?”

Oh. Well now that was a turn of events. Suddenly, Castiel was feeling tricked and manipulated, but in the best way of course.

“You already have me pinned to the couch. Do you really need to ask?”

This time when Dean's lips landed on Castiel's, it was much more coordinated than at the cemetery. This time, Dean knew what Castiel's mouth felt like, he knew how to move when Castiel responded to the gentle touch of his tongue and parted his lips. They kissed like waves rippled through the ocean, crashing and rolling before coming up for air just to be pulled out to sea again. Castiel nibbled gently on Dean's lower lip, then sucked it into his mouth, his hands tugged on his shoulders, bringing him down closer as they melted onto one another. Dean's hands was in his hair, on his hips. It was like being back at the lake, under water, being pulled down and going under, but Castiel had never felt more comfortable, more safe. More at home.

Dean dug the tips of his fingers into his hips, pinning them down when Castiel moved and moaned quietly beneath him. Castiel countered by pushing his thigh up just a little between Dean's legs. Dean's breath was hot against Castiel's skin as he mouthed from his mouth over his jaw, down to his neck. They stayed like that for a moment.

Castiel caught his breath, his head was turned towards the screen of the tv. The start menu of the DVD was playing on repeat, over and over again. He wondered if Dean could hear the way his heart was beating hard and fast. Dean had his head on his chest, Castiel's hands were playing lazily with his hair as they collected themselves.

Suddenly, Dean whimpered. It was quiet, thank god, but he squirmed and tensed on top of Castiel.

“Dean? Are you alright?”

Castiel turned his head down to look at him. Dean's eyes were shut tightly and his lips hung open from what he could see. It kind of looked like he was having a seizure, or...

“ _Shit,_ ” Dean got out through his gritted teeth, then his entire body went limp all at once, and he let out what might have been the loudest groan Castiel had ever heard him produce. “Fuck.”

Painfully aware of their surroundings, Castiel felt as if his ears were pointing outward, searching for any kind of sound coming from upstairs. When he heard nothing, he turned his attention back to Dean, who was currently trying to wrestle his way out of Castiel's embrace.

“Dean, did you–“

“Don't talk about it, oh my god,” he snapped at him in a hushed voice, stepping over Cas and standing up. “Fuck that was intense. It was like I was blown up like a balloon, you know, and like someone kept blowing air into me until I just...” Dean gestured an explosion with his hands, and awkwardly tugged on the front of his jeans.

“Yes, thank you, I know how orgasms work without the unnecessary and graphic imagery.”

“Dude, I said _don't talk about it._ ”

“I've _made_ that happen for you more than once, for your information, I think I'm entitled to question what happened.”

“I dunno. I... My pulse wouldn't go down, after we stopped kissing, it just kept racing. And then it was like I was there, with you – I mean _before_ , and I could feel it, you know, uh...”

Castiel sat up, frowning. “Wait are you saying you remembered?”

“I think so. I mean, yeah. I totally remembered. So I guess, both past you and I, plus present you, just gave me a hands free.”

“Wow.”

“This is so messed up.”

“You're welcome,” Castiel said with a grin, totally deserving the pillow that Dean grabbed and threw in his face.

***

After the couch-incident, things moved on pretty naturally. The make-outs became a lot more frequent, not that Castiel minded. Unfortunately, they didn't seem to bring any more memories with them. And neither did anything else Dean and Castiel did when they spent time together, whether it was sexual or not. More and more time passed between the memories, and when they returned to Dean, they were brief, harder to understand and when spring came to its end, both of them had mostly given up on any more memories showing up.

“The doctors said I've made a full recovery,” Dean said when Castiel stopped by his house one day in May. “Uh, besides my mind,” he added.

Castiel slumped down on Dean's bed, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “Does it feel alright? Knowing you might never get those whole years back?”

“I guess. I mean, I don't know what it was like to have them in the first place, so it's not a big deal.”

 _Maybe not to you_ , Castiel thought, feeling his heart sink in his chest. He'd worried all day about Dean. He'd stayed at home while Dean went to the hospital for his final check up, and he'd been praying and hoping he'd bring home good news. Of course, Dean being fine _was_ good news, just not as great as they could have been. _You're being selfish again_ , Castiel told himself.

Dean jumped up from the bed and walked across the room. He reached to the top of one of his shelves and removed a few books.

“Anyway, even if it's not a big thing for me, I know it is for you, so...” Dean grabbed something and quickly hid it behind his back.

“What's that?” Castiel asked, trying to get a peek.

“Nu-uh,” Dean said with a goofy smile.

“Don't be ridiculous. I want to see.”

“Okay, then,” Dean said and shrugged before removing his hands from behind his back, revealing a small vase holding a few stems with blue flowers. “I found these in the garden like two days ago. I didn't think we still had them, they all died or something after... uh, after mom passed away. I want you to have them, Cas,” he said, shrugging again as he handed the vase to Castiel.

“Dean.”

“I know you miss him, and I know it probably still sucks to almost have him back just to hear that he's most likely not. And I know we're good now, and we will be even better; awesome even, but you can't forget about the old me, the me you knew first. And I swear, I'll never forget you.”


	5. Epilogue

_“I was in an accident once,”_

_Dean's voice had turned into a near-whisper and he wasn't moving. His eyes seemed to have stuck to the wall in front of him, the cigarette burning closer and closer to his fingers as he blanked out. He was in that zone now, the sensitive zone he so dearly avoided, the zone Castiel made a note to not go near too often._

_“What do you mean, 'accident'?” He wasn't sure how he was going to tackle this subject, but he felt intrigued, and he needed Dean to open up for just once. He had to know something about his past. It wasn't like he was sitting around without a life and personality until Cas showed up in Lawrence. There had to be a before, and Castiel wanted to know._

If Castiel had known back then that Dean had been in a car crash that caused him a strange, rare kind of amnesia that turned his mind into a time-bomb that went _reset_ once it hit zero, he might have changed his mind about wanting to know. In fact, he might have made a lot of things different. He would have stopped having petty arguments with him about things that didn't really matter in the big, cosmic order of things. He would have kissed Dean more, told him how much he loved him more, spent more time outside in nature with him. He would have given up the top or bottom fight for him and let him have it all.

But he hadn't known, and with the end result literally in his hand (i.e blank canvas Dean Winchester that was currently walking to school with him) he wouldn't have done anything differently. Things were exactly as they were supposed to be, and he was happier than ever.

This time, they had the chance to start over. They didn't have any plans, no colleges in mind, no grand future all mapped out in front of them. Dean dropped out of high school a few weeks back. Castiel had yelled himself hoarse over that, but who was he to blame Dean for doing what he always wished he had the guts to do? To take risks, stand up against his family and be a little wild.

They were still taking things slow relationship wise, but at least some memories had started returning to Dean again, albeit still obscure and hard to interpret or place.

For some reason, Castiel knew this was for the better. They would tackle each problem together, they were communicating better than they ever had (though still pretty bad compared to other people, apparently – at least according to Bela and Portia, who were doing great by the way) and they would make it through this too, one day at a time. After all, what could be better than a blank page?

A page for them to write their own story, and make it up as they go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading my DCBB, it means a lot! I really enjoyed writing this fic, even though I struggled with the deadline towards the end. Hope you enjoyed reading it :).   
>  /♥.


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